Just Friends
by xanthofile
Summary: REPOST. Neville thought they would always remain just friends, but matters of the heart tend to outweigh matters of the mind. Slash. rated for future chapters. NL/HP OOC Begins in 6th Year and continues past graduation. COMPLETE
1. Everyday

so, i've rewritten this. it was initially published in '05, i finished it in '07, and then i did a few awkward reworkings. but this time, i've rewritten the story in its entirety, though i changed very little of the initial storyline. basically, i just brought it up to a point where i didn't cringe every time i had to read it. so, if you remember this story from somewhere, now you know where.

let's see: this story involves slow slash. it also begins during Sixth Year. as it was began in '05, it's canon up to the point of the fifth book, but becomes fairly OOC from thereafter in the actual storyline. i also want to state that the beginning of the story takes place in school, so of course, there are the normal school hijinks and drama before the characters actually start maturing.

and, if anyone tells me that Neville Longbottom is not gay, or that i am a super fruit for writing about him in this context, i will extend a prominent finger at the screen and let that be that. ...and yes, i say this from experience. if i wanted Neville to suddenly discover he's a flaming pyromaniac with a penchant for kicking old ladies in the shin while sporting a greasy fu-manchu, i do have the right to portray him that way. i guess.

i do not, however, own the right to the initial characters and hogwarts setting. those are property of jk rowling. i don't make a profit from this, and all that jazzmarazz. also, i am not british. if you are british, please don't call me a yank. yanks are not american indians. thank you, and happy reading.

-- -- -- -- -- -- _(Chapter Begins)_

Fibers scratched my forehead and cheeks as I pulled my wool jumper over my head and down my torso, knowing the night air was a bit cooler out near the lake. Still, I pushed the sleeves up towards my elbows, smoothing the hair on my head a bit before heading towards the stairs to leave the sixth year boy's dormitory.

"Oi, Nev, where ya off to this time of day? Not another potions lesson?"

Ron's voice stopped me mid-stride, and I turned to see him kneeling before his open trunk, stuff piled next to his knees as he'd pulled it out to look for something near the bottom. Messy git, yes. At the moment, he was staring at me with acute curiosity, and I felt my ears turn pink.

"No, I promised to meet Derrick."

His cheeks brightened as he shook his head with a small grin; "Ah, I see. Have…fun."

Nodding to show that I appreciated the sentiment--as well as the intention of having 'fun'--I quickly turned and stumbled my way down the stairway to the Grffyndor common room, a fair amount of students lazing about for a Sunday night. Harry was seated close to the fireplace, deep in discussion over quidditch with Dean, but he still managed to catch my eye and give me a sly and knowing grin even as he gave a small nod in farewell. He already knew about my date with Derrick, as I'd mentioned it not long after my boyfriend pulled me aside to ask me to meet him. Harry's grin caused my flush to darken, but I flashed a pleasant grin at him before slipping from the portrait-covered entrance, making my way out of the school and to the lake.

Even by the time I got out to our usual meeting place, the sun hadn't quite sunk below the horizon, and watching its slow descent filled me with a sense of calm as I waited for my boyfriend to show. Derrick was…so sweet and exciting, his American accent fresh and exotic to me, even after nearly six months of dating.

As it was, it wasn't long before a calloused palm suddenly slipped over my eyes, further accompanied by a gentle kiss to my cheek in greeting.

"Guess who."

My smile bloomed at the familiar throaty voice, and I pushed his hand aside as I turned to look at him, gaze bright and cheerful even as I admonished, "About time you came to keep me company, Der."

His only response was a rakish grin, his body moving so he could gracefully thud into place beside me, his arm sliding around my back as he took the time to lean over and initiate a friendlier and more welcoming kiss than the one to my cheek before.

Warmth spread through me as I returned it with a bit more cheer than my norm, but when his tongue predictably began to play at the crease between my lips, discomfort and uncertainty pooled in my gut, tension spreading across the nape of my neck. Despite my slight unease, I didn't protest or pull away, pushing myself to return his kiss and give him access to the inside of my mouth, sure that the only way to get over…this…would be to allow him to continue.

Emboldened by my compliancy, he settled his hand upon my knee, his breath warm against my skin as he deepened the kiss and moved his hand further, to my thigh, and then slowly inching almost spider-like upwards, my fear mounting the further he went. It was when he was very close to brushing against my groin that I froze completely, struggling to breath past the obscure panic; my inner conflict only resulted in my flinching as I jerked away from him completely, hating the feeling of color draining from my face as I stared at him in stark horror.

Frustration furrowed his brow, and his words were harsh with desperation and an edgy _longing_ for me to get over my fears of intimacy, "Why can't you ever _trust_ me?!"

"I'm s-sorry, but I…," my voice was shaky and thin, my body trembling, and hurt prickled my spine when thinly-veiled disgust and irritation pooled into his gaze.

"I _really like _you, Nev, 'cause you're so fucking sweet and cute…but god _damn_ it, I can't stand you when you're so fucking _shy_! Why is it that whenever I get the _tiniest _bit more intimate, you freak out on me? It's been _six bloody months_!"

"Please, I'm _trying_…." I had to force the whine past the thick knot in my throat, tears threatening to take hold in the corners of my eyes and make themselves known on my face. It's not that I haven't tried to get past this, that I haven't _wanted_ to take things further between us, but my body just…panics.

He continued glaring for a few moments before sighing, his shoulders slumping downwards as he looked away, staring at the darkening horizon before he stated, "No…I'm tired of waiting around as you try. …This isn't working for me anymore, and…just…just forget about trying to write me over the hols."

Having spoken his piece, he picked himself off the ground and left me behind as he walked back to the castle, his demeanor borderline gloomy as his fists found their way into his denim trouser pockets. The tears from before were forgotten in the abrupt shock of our breakup, my mind numb as I sat as I was for a good twenty or thirty minutes.

It was the colder night air that finally convinced me to head inside, shivers running down my spine despite the wool jumper as I clumsily stood and walked back up to the dormitory. Unable to face anyone at the moment, I unobtrusively slid in the dorm and up to bed, curling up beneath my blanket and staring into the darkness for a few hours before finally falling asleep.

--- --- ---

The next morning, I was able to keep myself numb as I went around with my routines of meals and classes, barely keeping up with everything that needed done. The events of the night before remained shoved to the back of my mind, a place where I normally store unpleasant matters in my life so I can function as normally as possible. Some days, it's the only way I manage to keep going.

But, seeing his face throughout the day, catching fleeting glimpses between classes…it forced the hurt to constantly seep back into the forefront of my mind, my body stuttering while remembering his smile, or how it used to make me feel when he'd glance up and catch my eyes, his grin beaming at the sight of me.

Somehow, I managed to take notes as required during class, but my mind constantly drifted back to Derrick, back to his penchant for American phrases, or when he slipped into a British saying without even thinking about it…more so after he'd started dating me. He used to laugh and say I'd 'rubbed off on him'.

It wasn't so good to think of those things, not good at all.

-

I had a potions lesson after dinner, and I quietly made my way to the dungeons, still functioning on automatic as I spread out my tools and ingredients and began to follow spoken instructions given to me by my snappish tutor.

"No! Just the _leaves_, you ponce, not the whole fucking _root_!"

My hands were forcibly jerked away from the bubbling cauldron before me, and I shakily dropped the roots I'd almost added without real thought of the consequences. I'd only almost caused an flesh-eating, acidic leak through the cauldron, no big deal.

"Hell, Longbottom, I thought you were actually _improving_. How did I ever get myself talked into working with such a complete imbecile?"

The sour voice was pitched with excessive ire, Malfoy grumpily adding the leaves I should have before he took the time to pinch the bridge of his nose. He, for whatever reason, agreed at the beginning of term to tutor me once or twice a week so that I could get beyond the failing grade I'd been faced with in Potions.

And even though the reprimand wasn't all that harsh or even undeserved, my face twisted up with sudden tears before I hid in my palms, my sobs sudden and noisy, everything catching up with me at last.

Somewhat panicked and disgusted, Malfoy managed to snap, "_Do_ behave more like a man, Longbottom, and spare the both of us. Only children carry on when smacked."

Shaking my head in denial for that being the reason behind my tears, I managed to choke out, "H-he doesn't want _anything _to do with me anymore!"

I heard him sigh and groan in the same breath…and at any other time, I'd be in awe of the ability to do so, so effectively, but at the moment, I wasn't of the right mind to care.

"Am I to assume this is about that bloody Ravenclaw?" His tone was dry and weary, and I gave a short nod, my tears already slowing as I managed to temper myself. It's never wise to be 'weak' in front of Malfoy; it's practically suicide.

He snorted; "Good riddance, I say. You're much better off without that git. Besides…he's _Ravenclaw_. Although, I must admit, Ravenclaws are probably better lovers than any Gryffindor, by far."

The words didn't make me feel any better, and I sent a brief glare in his direction before I took the time to wipe my eyes and cheeks on the sleeves of my robes, completely ignoring his horrified sneer at the crass action.

After a moment, I turned red with belated mortification, stumbling over my words, "S-sorry I went off."

"Whatever, Longbottom. Next time, make sure you cry on one of those _friends_ of yours, and not myself." His snort was brief and vaguely affronted, and it made me smile even as I turned back to the neglected potion, chewing my lower lip as I forced my mind to return to the process.

We worked in silence for a while, before he grudgingly asked of me, "You're not going to jump from the astronomy tower in the wee hours of the morning, are you? Rush out to the Forbidden Forest and kick a centaur? Slip to the bottom depths of the lake to rest with the merpeople?"

My laughter felt good, and I responded amiably, "Of course I'm not going to kill myself, you wanker. It just all caught up with me at once is all. You just happened to be the first person I told…dunno if I should say anything to anyone yet, anyway."

"Why? Too ashamed to let your little friends know you were dumped for being a complete and utter lackwit?" His sneer was haughty, but it didn't fool me; he was deathly curious. The git.

"He got tired of waiting for me to 'put out' for him." My eyebrow rose with distaste at the notion, something I've most certainly learned from Malfoy; if you're going to learn something, learn from the best.

His reaction to my statement was exactly as I'd anticipated; he shuddered with disgust before snapping, "Don't _say_ things like that! I don't like to think about your kinky perversion…oh bollocks, I do believe I will be quite scarred for life now, Longbottom."

A small grin graced my face, and his scowl deepened. Oooh, I'm _shaking_ in my robes.

It wasn't much longer before we finished and he grudgingly stated, "This should be the last of our lessons, you really don't need any more of my help to pass…even as hopeless as you are. And…well, as much as it _pains_ me to admit, you've proven to be a better pupil than I might have guessed."

He paused and added in mock serious, "My word, was that the very thread of existence unraveling? Have I _truly_ said the unspeakable?!"

I didn't allow my deep-seated pleasure to show, knowing that if he discovered just how much his words affected my self-esteem, he'd be forced to throw in something truly snide and acidly cutting to cover it up. I mean, he's only _Malfoy_, after all.

After cleaning up the supplies, I made ready to leave, only turning on afterthought. Truthful, I said, "I do consider you a friend, Malfoy, you know. If you ever need a favor…you know I'm far too nice to refuse it."

He rolled his eyes with contemptuous amusement at the obvious self-deprecating comment I'd made…and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. An _honest_ smile. Perhaps he'll actually keep the thought in mind.

"Oh…and Malfoy? Don't hurt him."

His resulting look was innocent, almost as if to say that I was off my rocker to believe that he'd be capable of anything of the sort, but I know _exactly_ the sort of things he's capable of.

Thus, I narrowed my eyes with suspicion as I pressed, "I _mean_ it, I don't want him hurt. Even though I appreciate the thought."

He sneered, and I snickered as I left the dungeons and headed back to the tower. But I wasn't going to delude myself into believing he'd listen; in fact, I wouldn't be surprised to hear of Derrick ending up having to visit Madame Pomfrey sometime within the next few days. More than a few visits, even.

Draco certainly isn't all that nice or pleasant, I know this; I also know what he could do if he put it into his mind to make a person suffer. During our first few lessons together, he'd harassed and sneaked curses at me whenever I let my guard down…which was nearly all the time. That is, until one of his spells forced my blade to slip and knick a finger, causing me to uncharacteristically snap and shoot off a hex of my own. A very nasty and _messy_ hex.

Thus, I'd earned some iota of respect from him--having to stopper up various liquids leaking from your ears at random intervals tend to have that effect--and a tentative friendship grew. And the most surprising? Draco can be a relatively amusing person. _Twisted_, but amusing. Considering his background, his form of humor was foreseeable, especially as his humor was one of the few things keeping his sanity in line.

---

When I returned to the tower, the common room was deserted except for Harry and a few lower years of our house; I recognized one fourth year, and two third. But, as I wasn't yet tired, I made my way over to sit beside Harry, my feelings and facial expressions glum.

He glanced up from his reading, his brow scrunched with the effort of actually studying and retaining what he read, but then his forehead puckered instead with concern as he saw my countenance.

"Malfoy give you trouble?"

"No," I sighed, "Derrick broke up with me last night."

His book snapped shut and he set it aside, turning to better look at me as he demanded, "Why didn't you say anything?!"

The faint light of the common room caused his glasses to flash, but it was easy to see his concern and agitation, and I gave another weary sigh, "I don't know."

"Don't know what?"

"…Why I didn't say anything earlier. I've been trying not to think about it."

"…He didn't _hurt_ you, did he?" I saw the way his eyes flicked over me, quickly scanning for any injuries I might be trying to hide.

"No! Of course not! I'm fine, Harry, I promise."

We fell into silence after his reluctant nod, until he broke it with a rueful, "I finally talked to that Hufflepuff today, the one I've been eyeing a while. It went well…except for the fact I made him so nervous he was squeaking with every other breath."

My laughter caught the both of us by surprise, his eyebrows shooting upwards as I exclaimed, "Harry, you'd make anyone nervous…you're _Harry Potter_!"

He scowled with vague irritation at the reminder, "I don't make you nervous, now do I?"

Rolling my eyes, I expounded, "Well, I _know_ you. There's a difference."

Sighing, he allowed himself a brief pout, but slid a grin at me eventually, "Yeah, I guess."

When I gave a satisfied nod, he laughed and poked me in the ribs with his bony elbow, changing the topic to some of the coursework we have in common, clearing up requirement details and discussing various answers we'd already come up with.

Not long afterwards, we wordlessly agreed to call it a night, heading up to the dorms and into our beds.

---

Because of the late night, I was one of the last of our year to wander into the Great Hall the next morning, scratching my head with a yawn and flicking my eyes over to the Ravenclaw table on ingrained instinct, only to stumble as I saw Derrick's stormy face. The eggs on his plate were decimated by repeated stabbing mutilation, a muscle standing out along his jaw line. I turned my gaze to Malfoy, his pointed face expressionless until he caught me staring, his mouth curving into a smirk. Merlin, he's a bastard.

My curse came out more of a groan beneath my breath, but I forced myself onward to our table, my mates hiding grins behind their hands except for Ron, his face red with the effort of keeping his braying laughter in.

I sat down with an unaffected air, and Ron finally blurted, "Neville, why is your boyfriend's hair flickering between pink and blue?"

Loud guffaws sounded as people lost their fight, and I sighed, leaning forward to begin loading my plate.

"Well, for one, he's not my boyfriend anymore, and two…that's basically why he's hexed." I stopped and looked at my plate, dubious. Did I really want to eat all of this? Well, no, not really, but I _should_.

"Since when?" Hermione pressed, surprised that she hadn't known.

"Since he dumped me day before last," I replied around a mouthful of toast.

"Who hexed him?" Dean asked, looking down the table at us before glancing back at Derrick.

"Can't say for certain. Just want people to leave him alone, though."

My glance was meaningful as I looked around, catching the end of Seamus' disappointment--he _would_ have wanted to pull something, he never liked Derrick. Ignoring various other attempts at information, I continued eating until it was time to head to classes.

---

It was during Potions that I had a chance to talk to Malfoy, seeing how I'm permanently paired with the arse.

As soon as we had a moment, I hissed, "There was no need to do that."

"Do be thick somewhere else, Longbottom, I don't have time for obscurities." His reply was lazy, his hands deft in expertly shaving a curl of some chalky substance into our cauldron.

"I told you not to do anything to him," I expounded, grinding it out between clenched teeth while glancing to see if Snape was paying any attention to us in particular. And by 'us' I really mean 'me'. I was free for the moment; however, as he was sniping at someone for sneezing into their potion.

"I believe your exact words were that I wasn't to _hurt_ him."

At that moment, I hated his overly smug face, my eyes narrowing, unable to refute that on a technicality, he was right. However, had I the nerve, I'd show him the difference between what a person says, and knowing what they really mean.

-

Before too long, the rumor going around was that I'd hexed Derrick out of revenge for standing me up, our breakup suddenly one of drama and tension. Anyone who knew me at all knew the subject of Derrick was murky to bring up, usually causing me to withdraw for a time before bouncing back, and that the rumor was even worse, setting my teeth on edge in anger. I didn't bother trying to set it right though, seeing as how the term was nearly over anyway--nobody was going to remember this come next fall.

-- -- -- -- -- --

A/N: as this story is already complete, i'll probably be able to update about once a week. give or take.


	2. Typical

chapter two. thanks for all the non-existent reviews guys.

* * *

_I didn't bother trying to set it right though, seeing as how the term was nearly over anyway--nobody was going to remember this come next fall._

_--- --- --- (chapter begins)_

The summer hols passed slowly and dismally, my grandmother as overbearing as always. Don't get me wrong, I love her, I really do, but there's only so much 'instruction' I can stomach for any extended length of time before wishing to run off and work a muggle fun fair. I was dosed steadily on how my poster and grades were simply horrid, how I can talk too much, too loud, too soft, not enough…it depended on her moods, really. One day I could be a carbon copy of 'You-Know-Who', while other days I was the most angelic grandson a person could have--and I never had to do anything more or less than be myself.

There were weekly visits to St. Mungo's. I used to think I'd get used to it all by now, but…that still hasn't happened. They were strangers to me, as much strangers to me as I was to them--they never remembered they were married, nor that they had a son. I used to hope a small part of them, some deep distant cortex, could remember me as a baby, could remember themselves as they used to be. Strong, honorable. Maybe it's a blessing they don't have to understand how they're just shells of their former selves, that those shells are the only parents I have left.

So, as you can imagine, I was all too glad to escape back to Hogwarts come the beginning term.

Harry was the first into the compartment on the train, bumbling past the door before reversing and entering when he'd realized I was there. It was only once he'd plopped down onto the seat opposite that I noticed a fading bruise beneath his left eye, only green and yellow now, barely visible unless you knew to look. I failed to hide my wince and he flushed, ducking his head as he mumbled something about his cousin while adjusting his shirt, already changing the subject by the time he'd looked up again.

We talked some while waiting for the others not long in coming, our compartment eventually growing a crowd that threw talk and well-wishes back and forth. Everyone obstinately ignored Harry's bruised eye even better than I had, for they understood things about his family more than I ever could. I knew Harry sometimes spent some time with Ron during the summer hols, but he mainly stayed with the muggle family who raised him. It was easy to see he never liked it there.

-

There was little fanfare in starting up term, things picking up routine fairly quickly--I had the normal panic attacks while standing outside the portrait trying to remember passwords, losing my schedule and not knowing which classes I had and when, finding myself down the wrong corridors at all the wrong times. I'm much better than when I was younger, though.

I did ask Malfoy for help in potions again, more out of a want for his company than for the help, but it gave him an excuse to accept us spending time together.

It was already into the second week of term when we met for the first time in a spare lab room down in the dungeons, our silence congenial as we worked, apart from the occasional instruction. He was patient in repeating explanations, but as I knew what was good for me, I only required a second repetition before 'understanding', whether I understood it fully or not.

Eventually though, the silence got the better of him and he started up idle conversation about the hols, eventually working his way to bringing up Derrick.

He stubbornly ignored all the subtle hints I gave at not wanting to talk about him until I finally sighed, "Malfoy, honestly, just drop it. He's nothing more than another face in the halls, and anything more about him is just pointless. I tire of it."

"But, you did mention how he broke it off because you wouldn't…what's the phrase, 'put out'…yes?"

Silver irises flicked to the corners of his eyes as he stirred the gently bubbling potion, trying to force the conversation.

My cheeks pinked as I gave a curt nod.

"Too much a prude, Longbottom?" he sneered, self-satisfied with himself as he turned towards me to gloat.

I couldn't look at him, agitation stirring in my gut as I frowned; "No, I just…can't, alright? It's not that I didn't try, but whenever he tried to…I just couldn't help remembering."

My clenched fingers snapped the willow branch I'd been tasked at debarking for the pain relieving potion, and my breath slid into a long sigh as I forced myself to relax.

"Remembering what?" His tone was brisk and borderline prickly, almost brittle. If I didn't know any better, I might think he actually cared.

"A story," I finally hedged, my fingernails catching the soft underside of bark and peeling up fragrant strips from the harder wood beneath.

"Tell me." For all his crispness and impatience, my voice was steady as I shrugged.

"Fine. …There was once a boy, someone never really good at any one thing, because nobody ever took the time to show that maybe he could be good at something. But then he met a boy during summer hols, someone who smiled and laughed, and suddenly, the boy had someone who saw him like nobody ever had before.

"He seemed to care and want more than they had. He managed to convince the boy that maybe deep down, he could really be someone special, if only to one other person. So, when that boy told him he loved him, it changed all the rules, broke all the boundaries, and the shy boy let the other do anything he wanted.

"Only, when the amazing boy was done, when he was through taking every last bit he could, everything, he just left and never came back. The only evidence that he'd ever existed was the emptiness he left behind."

Malfoy was silent as he mulled over what I'd said, face blank even though his fingers had never skipped a motion throughout the small tale.

"So, he used you," he finally said, and I gave a vague shrug.

"That's your only reaction?" he sneered, trying to bait me to show a greater depth of emotion than I had, as if my lack of response disturbed him.

"You've no need to rub it in, Malfoy, I know I was a stupid ponce, ok? I should have known better than to think someone would love me, right?"

His sneer deepened into honest disgust; "And what would happen to me should I hex you in front of your little friends?"

I smiled a bit, already knowing the answer; "You'd wake up in the hospital a week later."

"Right. You're an ijit, Neville," he stated, ice in his voice and eyes as he stared at me, stilling all other movement in favor of trying to freeze me to the core. He was angry, derogatory, but I was used enough to his ways to understand his words beyond the tone.

"It's not the same thing, and you know it," I shot back, and he gave a snort, defrosting as he turned back to the potion, belatedly resuming the stirring when he noted its changing color.

"I bet Potty would be the first to attack me, too," he mused nastily, voice dripping disdain.

"He's my friend, and he hates you. Of course he'd be the first," I replied with a shrug.

"Just a 'friend'. Right. As if he doesn't lean the same as you." His statement was pointed enough to cause me to become uncomfortable with what he was insinuating, heat pouring to my cheeks as I shook my head.

"It's not like that with me and Harry."

His eyes rolled, and it only took a split-second's worth of thought for me to give an off-handed, "He only has a fetish for snooty blondes, anyway."

It was all worth it to see him thrown, his sputtering vehement denials and threats freezing as he saw the wicked grin spread across my face, eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, you would think that funny," he muttered, sinister expressions crossing his face, but they only served to widen my grin before snickering.

"Oh come off it and just finish up already!" he snapped, uncharacteristically losing his cool.

"Done," I agreed, smug as I dangled the bottled potion before his face and then slapped it into his hand, gathering my things as he fought to regain words.

As it was, I was already to the door before he recovered enough to bark, "Arse!" at my retreating back.

Even though I'd been so smart in riling him, my cheeks continued to burn with embarrassment as I made my way to the Gryffindor common room, remembering his insinuations about Harry and me being more than what we really are: just friends. I couldn't think of Harry in that way, it was like thinking of Ron or Dean…there was nothing there to think about.

Only after having put those thoughts back in their place did I allow myself to grow more cheerful, remembering the look on Malfoy's face as he'd spluttered and fumbled all over himself. It almost made me laugh, but I turned the urge into a sort of tuneless humming of some song I couldn't recall the words to, absently giving the password to let me into the common room.

It was mostly deserted but for one small group: Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They'd always spent long nights in the common room over the years, so I wasn't surprised to see them.

It was Harry's voice I first heard as I entered, my foot caught in a wrinkle on the carpet and sending me into a stumble before his words registered; "No way!"

My grunted curse caught his frantic attention, his finger flying into a point as he exclaimed, "Ask Nev!"

I cocked my head unconsciously, staring at them a moment before hesitantly asking, "Ask me what?"

Hermione was practically doubled over trying to hold back silent laughter, gasping in breaths as Ron avoided my gaze as if from a basilisk, his face turning apoplectic in color. It clashed horridly with his hair. Harry was a rather dark shade of red as well, slumping down in his seat as if it'd help him to disappear.

"Ask me what?" I repeated, my curiosity drawing me over as I looked them over in turn, looking for some sort of answer to their baffling behavior.

Ron jerked, ranting without context, "I was just curious!"

"About what?!" I was quickly losing patience, my tone making me sounding thick and snappish, and I flushed.

Harry, though, popped upright in his seat, indignant as he sputtered and waved an arm, "He asked me to kiss him!"

I frowned; "…What?"

"I'm not flaming gay, alright? I just wondered if it were the same with a bloke as a girl, is all," Ron quickly pointed out, and my sudden understanding caused a knowing smirk to cross my face, turning my gaze onto Harry. He was burning bright, hiding behind his hair and glasses.

I adopted a reproachful tone; "And you can't show him the difference then, Harry?"

He gawped; "I can't kiss my best mate! I'd have to be mental!"

My response was to widen my grin, and he frowned, snapping, "You kiss the blighter! See how you like it!"

I shrugged; "Alright."

I was hit with three simultaneous expressions of shock, mouths agape before Ron managed to drudge up a response. "You're serious."

"Yeah."

He visibly balked and I shrugged, giving a cheerful wave of my fingers before heading for the stairs leading up to the dorms, hearing a hissed, "Do it, Ronald!" from Hermione. He cursed in her direction, and when I turned, Harry had a grin on his face, amused now that he was out of the spotlight for a kiss of curiosity.

It was the grin of his best mate that made Ron pause, glancing between the two before coming to the conclusion that should he back down, he'd never hear the end of it.

"Probably never going to agree to something like this again," I prompted, seeing him agonizing over it before he finally nodded, his head moving as though needles were poised at his jugular.

He stood even more slowly, eyes wide and hesitant as he remained at his chair. I waited a moment to see if he was going to make any other move before abruptly realizing he couldn't, rolling my eyes as I advanced on him before he could react. Almost too easily, I pulled the taller boy down a bit, planting a closed kiss to his stiff mouth. His body held rigid for practically the entire thirty seconds I remained attached to his lips, but after a moment, he relaxed enough to actually kiss me back, even going so far as to lean closer.

I pulled back then, chiding gently, "There now, wasn't so bad, was it?"

He flushed, wiping the back of his hand across his lips as he put space between us. It had been weird for me too, kissing Ron.

"Not too bad," he admitted, chagrined and almost disappointed that it hadn't been spectacularly off-putting.

"Neville should kiss Harry!"

Hermione's quick suggestion caused us to cry in unison, "Hermione!" but she shrugged.

"Just a thought."

But once it was in my head, I couldn't help that I found myself considering it. It couldn't cause any harm, could it? I mean, I just kissed Ron, and that was as platonic as it gets. It wasn't as if anyone ever had to know.

"Ok."

Harry's face whipped my direction; "You have got to be joking."

I smiled a bit sheepishly, shrugging; "Not really, but I guess I'll just be going to bed."

I took a step towards the stairs, somewhat disappointed. It would have been interesting, kissing Harry. Even as friends, I could say he was fairly handsome; I doubt I'd ever get the chance to kiss someone like Harry again.

"Oi, I did it!" Ron gloated, holding the experience over his best friend's head, as if our awkward kiss had been a huge ordeal. Harry's face grew void of color as he realized he was getting blackmailed into a corner.

"But I already know what it's like to kiss a bloke! I've even kissed a girl!"

I pointedly made a show of rolling my eyes, actually getting to the bottom of the stone staircase before he hurriedly called out, "Wait, Neville, ok…I'll do it."

I turned, grin taunting as I goaded, "If you think you can change my mind for an awkward little peck like with Ron, I think I'd be better off just going to bed."

He frowned, pushing up from his seat with resolve set on his face. I was surprised by the aggression that propelled him across the room and over to me, his hands grabbing my face and pulling me into a kiss before one arm slid across the back of my shoulders, preventing me from pulling away too soon.

It was already different from kissing Ron, because even though it was pushily aggressive in ways I'd never been comfortable with before, I was at ease with the kiss; it felt a bit like kissing Derrick, just a tad above friendly or curious. Our eyes remained open and I stared into the blueness of his, giving a start when he flicked his tongue against my upper lip.

I opened without thinking, changing the entire nature of our kiss.

In an instant, it went beyond 'friendly pucker' to 'merlin, that's his tongue'. I forgot about anything else, caught so completely by the kiss that I even drew him closer into my arms, wrapping around him in a way that had never felt as comfortable with my ex-boyfriend. He tasted warm…if the feeling of warmth had a taste, Harry had it.

He owned the ability to taste warm.

I'd closed my eyes sometime, and opened them only after we'd mutually pulled apart, our arms dropping sluggishly down at our sides as we tried to reorient. I was flushed and a little dazed, feeling thoroughly snogged as I stared over Harry's shoulder and tried to reign my scattered thoughts into a cohesive unit once more.

"There isn't something between you two we should know about, is there?"

Hermione's question snapped me back into place, jerking me even further from my friend as a blush heated up my face again.

"No! …I mean, we're just friends."

Harry cleared his throat, pulling his eyes up from the carpet as he nodded in agreement; "Right."

The resulting silence was awkward, and I moved backwards a bit, stammering my words as I said, "I-I'll just be going upstairs then, yeah? I mean…see you at breakfast…like any other day…."

I turned and practically bolted upstairs, changed and into bed in record time.

I never would have thought of kissing Harry on my own…it had never occurred to me to kiss any of my best mates before, and especially not Harry. It had startled me, but despite being one hell of a bloody fine kisser, Harry was still just my friend.

* * *

A/N: next chapter will be up next week sometime.


	3. Wake Up Make Up Bring it Up Shake Up

thank you for the reviews, guys. i mean it--no sarcasm this time. it's nice to know people enjoy reading, because otherwise, posting feels like a pointless exercise.

_monday, 15 february, 2010. 2:50 pm._

* * *

_I never would have thought of kissing Harry on my own…it had never occurred to me to kiss any of my best mates before, and especially not Harry. It had startled me, but despite being one hell of a bloody fine kisser, Harry was still just my friend._

_--- --- --- (chapter begins)_

It was right before winter hols that I gained a new boyfriend. He was a fifth year Hufflepuff; a bit young, but very sweet. I'd noticed Jonah was in the greenhouses a lot, and gradually began a rapport with the boy, surprised when things sparked almost immediately. We grew to spending the majority of our free time in the greenhouses, working on projects and the like.

He was young, yes, but mature and easy-going, someone I could relax and be myself around. I liked him well enough, but knew I wasn't all that particularly attached, not able to get as close to someone so soon after Derrick. Still, I was affectionate with Jonah, as he wished, holding his hand as we talked or leaning over to give quick but genuinely warm kisses when he least expected them.

Jonah reminded me of the type of boy I used to wish for but could never expect to love now, not anymore.

-

"Nev, who's that Hufflepuff you're always with these days?"

Harry motioned at Jonah sitting at the other house table, curious because the boy smiled at me when our eyes caught just moments before.

"Hm? Oh, that's Jonah."

My toast was spread with red plum jelly, and I bit down on its tart sweetness before washing down the mix with a swig of pumpkin juice.

"He smiled at you like _that_."

I looked at Harry, raising an eyebrow; "Like what?"

He gave me a pointed look and I caved; "That's because he's my boyfriend."

He blinked in surprise; "You never said anything about getting another boyfriend."

I apologetically shrugged, and he absently poked at the rim of his plate with the tines of his fork.

"You told me about Derrick right after he'd asked you."

It might have been my imagination, but it almost sounded as if he was hurt I'd kept something from him, and I leaned closer as I said, "Between you and me, I wanted to fall in love with Derrick. …Jonah's sweet, but he's fifth year, Harry. T'ain't going anywhere."

"Yeah," he agreed, still a bit put-out, and it left me feeling guilty.

I honestly hadn't given it any thought, telling him about Jonah, because truth be told, it hadn't been that important. I glanced at Jonah and felt a twinge of guilt about my last thought--maybe it was time to just let the boy go.

It would be kinder that way.

-

I later found myself in the library searching for a new novel to read during down-times, and quickly found a rather engrossing book covering exotic plant varieties, such as those found in South America or Australia.

I was already deep into when a voice abruptly came from just behind my ear, "Oi, Nev."

My reaction was knee-jerk violence, my wand already in my fingers as I whipped around, the beginnings of a hex already forming on my lips before it cut short once I realized who it was.

"_Derrick_! …Merlin, you shouldn't sneak up on a body like that."

His apologetic smile was a bit weak, eyes on my wand before I put it away and rubbed my chest, trying to calm my pulsating heart into a more regular rhythm.

He slid into the chair beside mine, leaning an elbow against the table as he looked at me; "Too good to resist."

I huffed slightly, hands smoothing out rumpled pages in the book as I asked in a prim voice, "All well and good, but was there something you wanted, other than frightening me out of my wits?"

"I'm sorry for how I was, end of term. What I said."

His words were quiet, and I waited for more, only to realize there weren't any.

"And?" I pressed, and he silently sighed.

"And that I was hoping that maybe…you'd want to try again? With me?"

"Derrick, I already have a boyfriend."

My gentle words caused displeasured agitation to roll across his face, and I was startled when his hand dropped down to grip the table.

"Who? I bet it's someone in your house, yeah? Some poncy Gryffindor?"

My mouth opened as I frowned, about to tell him off, but we were interrupted when Jonah chose that moment to rush over to the table, his voice overly excited. "Neville, I just saw the first Blue Ibisham bloomin', blue as anything'! Quick, you'll _miss _it!"

I couldn't help rushing to my feet, burgeoning excitement causing a grin to spread across my face as I haphazardly gathered up my things. I shot a brief, nodding farewell to Derrick before turning to leave, Jonah quick to grab my hand when I reached out for his--his fingers squeezed tight and practically pulled me from the library, causing me to laugh a bit before adjusting the grip to one a bit less painful.

We rushed to get out to the greenhouse, our hands still locked together even as I struggled not to drop both my bag and the hefty text beneath my arm--Jonah wisely snatched the book from my grip moments before I dropped it, knowing enough to remove anything that could become a potential klutz-hazard for someone like myself.

The two of us bubbling into the greenhouse, I allowed him to continue pulling me over to one of our projects, and I absently dropped my bag as I viewed the delicate blue flowers just beginning to bloom.

"It worked! The crossing _worked_!"

I was breathless with accomplishment, and Jonah laughed, enveloping me into an overly-excited embrace. "You did it, you're a bloody genius, Neville!"

I blushed; "Hardly."

Pulling away with a roll of his eyes, he commented, "You bloody well are, so suck it up and acknowledge it already."

I grinned and gave him a light shove, making him laugh before digging into my bag for me to pull out the journal I keep specifically for the Blue Ibashams.

They were a pet project of mine this year, and these blooms were the first success we'd found thus far. We'd spent hours carefully cross-pollinating select species and then observing the effects of light and mulch mixtures. These blooms were as much a triumph for him as they were for me, and I let him continue gushing, knowing they might never have turned out as well without his constant help.

In all the excitement, I forgot my earlier resolve to let the boy go.

---

Thus, it was a surprise to me when I noticed just a little over a week later that Jonah refused to make eye contact where he once would have sought me out on purpose. His face appeared drawn when we passed in the halls, and he'd even gone so far as to turn down a random hall when he saw me approach, leaving me feeling a bit hurt and quite a lot confused.

There hadn't been any indication to warrant his behavior, and I worried that something had happened to him. He could be simply worried about something he'd gotten in post. Maybe.

When I couldn't accept his avoidance any longer, I staked out the Hufflepuff entrance, waiting until he'd emerged before letting him see me. It was too late for him to hide without being obvious about it, and he stared at me with thinly veiled desperation as I approached and he visibly shrank back.

"You're avoiding me." My tone was flat, and served to increase his agitation, eyes looking everywhere but at me.

"No, I just…."

"You just what?"

My frown made him squirm even more, his face turning red before finally crying, "I can't be your boyfriend anymore!"

While I stood there stunned, he half-ran past me, shoulders hunched as he left me standing there.

It was mid-day on a Sunday and snowing, and though I first thought of the greenhouses, I ended up returning to Gryffindor tower to sulk. The common room was crowded and overly noisy, and I escaped that bombardment by making my way upstairs to the dorm, sitting on my unmade bed and staring down at the flagstone flooring. I wasn't aware of the heat around my eyes before my vision blurred, using my sleeve to wipe my eyes, but it only made things worse.

"You alright there, mate?"

Harry's quiet voice made me look up, seeing him perched in one of the large windows, a quidditch book spread on his knees as he looked over at me in obvious concern. My face screwed up, the only response he needed to abandon the book and come over to the bed, hesitating near one of the four-posts.

He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to, the fact that he was there enough for me to manage to ask, "Why does everyone leave me?"

My voice cracked with self-pity, and I despised myself for that, but couldn't take it back.

He moved over and sat next to me, fairly astute as he said, "Jonah, huh?"

I ducked my face and he put a strong arm about my shoulders, drawing me into his side as his touch told me it was ok to cry, that he wouldn't judge me for it.

"It just didn't seem like him, the way he avoided me, I thought maybe…there wasn't any reason for it, Harry."

He made a noise in his throat, rubbing my back somewhat as I grew silent, thinking hard despite my tears before I abruptly stiffened in sudden realization, startling Harry when I growled, "That _bastard_."

He was shocked at the ferocity in my voice--I've never been truly angry around him before, never had anything push me over the edge. But this, what I knew in my gut had happened, it made me furious.

I broke free from Harry and stood in agitation, fists clenched; "It's Derrick, Harry! Of all the…. He made Jonah break up with me, that bleeding, sodding…_argh_!"

"But how could he know?"

My fingers clenched tight enough to ache, speaking more out loud than to Harry; "He's not stupid, no, he saw and just couldn't have it. I said no and he just couldn't _have _it."

"Nev, wha--"

I started for the door and he grabbed my wrist, "Where are you going?!"

When I turned to growl at him, I saw his wide eyes, the unease there…it hit home how out of character I was acting if Harry had no idea what I might do.

He must have seen the change in me, because he let go of my wrist, saying instead, "Don't do something rash you'll only regret later. Believe me, Nev, you don't want that."

There was logic to what he said, a stark honesty telling harbored regret for actions of his own. I took some breaths and felt the tension gradually ebb from my body, enough so that I sank down onto the bed with a despondent sigh, fingers rising up to rub at my tear-gummed eyes with irritation.

He remained standing, looking at me a moment before asking, "You'll be all right, won't you, Neville?"

Nodding in affirmation, I watched him return to his perch in the window. He looked at me a few moments before turning to the gray, wintry sky outside, a low humming coming from his throat. It all seemed so completely normal now, it was hard for me to recall the negative emotions that had gripped me so powerfully just moments before. My thoughts, however, never faded, and I finally got up and gathered some outside gear, pulling it on in precise movements.

My movements alerted Harry to my departure, his eyes finding mine. "Nev?"

"Going to the greenhouse."

He nodded his understanding, and I left the tower, heading out of the castle.

-

The first couple greenhouses were already occupied, but the one housing my projects was dark and empty when I let myself inside, calling up some low lights as I head back for some of the equipment I'd been allow to store there. I then went around doing simple maintenance work, my tasks enough to pull me from my swirling moods, my mind and body relaxing enough to be at peace.

The greenhouse is one of the few places where I can fully relax.

So immersed in what I was doing, I didn't even notice that I'd gained company, not until I heard, "I hoped I'd find you here."

I refused to rise to his presence, my lips thinning somewhat but my voice remaining level as I replied, "Now wouldn't be the time to be talking to me, Derrick."

"Oh?"

Dropping gracefully into the dirt with me, looking good in jeans and robes, he looked at me as if he hadn't a single clue why that might be. Sparing a single glare in his direction, my movements became just a tad bit more forceful.

"You told Jonah to break up with me."

He winced, looking away with an awkward cough to clear his throat, and I dropped my trowel.

"Fucking low, Derrick, why did you have to do it?!"

He flinched at my acidic reproach, looking at me now; "I miss you, Neville! I tried to talk to you, but you…and maybe it was Slytherin, what I did, but you never listen to reason."

Snorting an expletive beneath my breath, I returned to my work, forcibly concentrating on what I was doing to the dirt around my plants so that I wouldn't have to notice the longing hurt in his voice.

After a long moment, I heard him approach before he gently ran his knuckles down the side of my face, freezing me in place as my eyes closed--he never used to touch me like that before.

"I hurt you, Neville, I'm sorry. …But you mean more to me than anyone else."

His voice had turned husky during the confession, my teeth needling my lower lip even as his fingers moved to my neck. I didn't resist, couldn't resist, allowing myself to turn into his touch, allowing his lips to touch mine in a bittersweet reminder of what we once had.

I never expected to again feel the passion I used to have, but it resurfaced as I let him press further and faster than he once could, accepting his tongue without any of the reservations that used to hold me back. We shifted, moving closer, and I ended up against his chest as my arms wrapped about his torso, completely lost in the sensations he pulled from me. Warmth nestled up in my belly and gradually began to flow outwards, flushing my skin. He let out a soft groan into my mouth as he pulled back for a small gasp of air, his mouth then descending to my neck for a faint suckling kiss before returning up again.

A strangled noise of shock jerked us apart, my flushed face beginning to burn with mortification as I saw Ron standing not all that far away, his mouth working as he gawped at the two of us.

"I, er…." My voice fell away, and I felt as though my skin might very well peel away from the scalding burn going on just beneath the flesh of my face.

"You're late…dinner, and Harry was going to come out but I was already dressed, you see, and…."

Ron's words were haltingly awkward, and he stumbled back a bit as I suddenly popped up onto my feet, dusting my robes in a hurry and urging him to leave with me. I didn't have the courage to look back.

The silence on the way to the castle was heavy, and I finally cleared my throat.

"It wasn't what it looked like."

"What it looked like?! It looked like he had his whole fucking tongue in your mouth, is what it bloody well _looked _like!"

He waved a hand in emphasis, and I couldn't help but to laugh a bit, giddy in the aftermath of mortification.

"Harry's had his tongue further in my mouth than Derrick just did."

"Maybe, but it wasn't like _that_. …_That _was just weird."

I shot him a dark look and he grimaced. "Yeah, ok, I just wasn't expecting to see it."

"Well, it's not that I was expecting it to happen either," I said crossly.

He glanced at me, as if weighing his want to ask for clarification, but we'd reached the castle and made our way to the Great Hall, among the last of the students to arrive, it seemed. We quickly made our way to our table, slipping into slots left open for us--I ended up seated across from Harry, while Ron slid into the vacancy to Harry's immediate left.

We were teased for being late, but everything was normal until Ron caught sight of Derrick slipping into the Great Hall some five minutes after us, his face turning bright red. His tight-lipped silence stirred far more questions than had he gone ahead and told them the truth, and I sighed.

"Caught me snogging Derrick in the greenhouse, he did."

Harry's stare turned piercing upon hearing the statement, and I gave him a slight shrug.

"So…that was making up, yeah?" Hermione asked, and I quickly shook my head.

"What? No! It just sort of happened, didn't mean anything."

Harry's eyes narrowed, and I flicked him a glance saying, 'later', and he let me off with a nod before turning to Ron and saying something about a class they share.

-

I wasn't given long afterwards before Harry dragged me into a corner back in the common room, saying nothing but giving me that piercing stare again.

I held my silence for a few moments before cracking; "I don't want him back, Harry. He came out to talk to me, and yeah, I let him kiss me, but I wasn't really thinking about it."

One of his fingers came up and brushed my neck, his tone somewhat amused as he said, "You have a spot from him, here."

My hand flew to my neck; "Oh hell, really?"

He grinned, nodding and then shrugging to say it didn't matter. "And Ron walked in on you two, then?"

I blushed as fiercely as if had just happened, but laughed a bit, glad that I could laugh about it.

"Should have seen his face, I thought he'd die."

His teeth flashed in laughter; "Be glad it weren't Hermione! She asked me two years ago if she could ever watch me make out with a boyfriend, should I ever get one. Even though I said no, I rather think she'd find a way to spy on me regardless."

It was difficult for me to imagine Hermione being that perverted, until I recalled who it was pressing for more kissing that time.

Even as we joined the larger group in the common room, we were still laughing as if to some private joke, our eyes flashing at rare intervals and setting us off again.

Eventually, people began to head up to bed until it was just our small group, with the addition of Dean. It was Dean who brought up my snogging with Derrick again, initiating a whole conversation at my expense until I finally lost complete patience with the subject.

"Can't we just let it go, already?" I asked, exasperated.

"Why couldn't it have been me to go out there, is all I'm saying, then I wouldn't have missed it," Hermione said, dramatically put out.

I muttered a low, "girls" beneath my breath, and she speared me with one of her pointed stares--they're even more effective than Harry's, honestly.

"You never quite said why you were snogging him, if it wasn't to make up," she hinted, and I sighed.

"He came out there to apologize for telling Jonah to break up with me, the kiss wasn't supposed to happen," I admitted, and Dean's eyebrows shot way up.

"Jonah? Not that fifth year?"

I nodded, and he snickered with private amusement before explaining, "Parvati was mooning over him for _ages_, talking about his tight bum and cute little boy face. And you, you've been _dating _him!"

Hermione made a show of gasping, her eyes wide as she leaned forward a bit and speculated, "I bet Neville knows all about his tight bum, yeah? Kinky. Bet you kissed him a lot, huh Neville."

"Argh! Why does everyone have a need to know who I kiss or not?!" I demanded.

"Because you're…Neville. It's so surprising how you've managed to kiss more people than any of us," Dean pointed out, only slightly jealous.

I shrugged; "It's really not that big a deal."

"Well, I've only kissed this one bird from 'ome, and she did this thing with her hands that…."

He trailed off as people began snickering, full on blushing as he challenged Hermione, "Well, what about you?!"

She straightened, chin pointed as she said, "Of course, I'm a virgin, I'll wait until married, thank you."

When further snickering ensued, she tossed her hair, eyes glinting dangerously as she said, "So? I can't be the only one here! I mean, Harry…."

Harry shook his head just slightly to signify that he wasn't a virgin, and I hid my grin. It'd been just near the beginning of sixth year that I'd noticed he was having problems sitting, and had discreetly sat down next to him and told him that a callus balm for quidditch players works wonders for 'those' kinds of problems. He'd stared at me in horror before realizing how I could have known, and that was how it went.

"Fine, Ron then," she continued, and Ron nodded before being able to stop himself, mortified by Dean and Harry's guffawing laughter at his expense.

"What?! Guys can be virgins, Neville is!" he cried, defensive.

"Except I'm not."

Four pairs of eyes turned to me, dumbfounded and trying to grasp the statement.

"Oh, bloody _hell_, of course you're not," Ron moaned despairingly, and I couldn't help crack up--Harry joined in by the time I started to cry from laughing so hard, and even Ron couldn't help laughing at his own expense.

In the comfortable silence after, I suddenly yawned, eyes watering from the force of it as I stood.

"I'm done in for today," I confessed, stretching a bit.

"What, can't find someone to snog to top off the night?" Harry teased.

I raised an eyebrow, surprising him and everyone else when I walked behind the couch and tilted his face up for a fast peck to the lips, letting go as everyone laughed at someone else's expense, while Harry just stared with a shocked expression. I smirked and started walking away, hearing him scramble up just seconds before he called my name, pulling me to a stop by grabbing my wrist.

When I turned, he was already leaning in, startling me by his immediate plunder of my mouth. My hands flew like birds to his upper arms, as if thinking to push him off, but then my body relaxed against his, his hands moving to my hips, drawing me closer as he so starkly explored my mouth.

Only another boy could do this, be so bold and forward, and that drove lust straight down my spine and into my groin, stirring life like I'd just hit puberty. My spine stiffened as I shot away from him with a low gasp, hoping my pose wouldn't reveal my building erection.

He apparently hadn't noticed, though we were close enough he _could _have, but all he did was to flash a wicked grin at me, teasing, "Now that, that was a proper top-off snogging."

I'd manage to collect some composure in the meantime, and shot back, "Aye, but now I find myself in a most uncomfortable position, so…I'll just go '_top off_', yeah."

The cockiness left him as he glanced down, face turning pink as snorts of mirth came from the others, and I smiled a bit before turning and going upstairs. Snores occupied the other beds, and I quickly undressed and got into my own four-poster, pulling closed the hangings before 'topping off', and going to sleep before the others came up.

* * *

A/N: until next week.


	4. Shoot Me in the Smile

meant to have this posted on monday, but have coursework swamping me down. next update should be monday or tuesday, if circumstances don't change. thanks for the reviews, guys!

_wednesday, 24 february, 2010. 12:00 pm._

_-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --  
_

_Snores occupied the other beds, and I quickly undressed and got into my own four-poster, pulling closed the hangings before 'topping off', and going to sleep before the others came up. _

_-- -- -- (chapter begins)_

I was first up the next morning, heading down to the relatively empty Great Hall for breakfast. My thoughts drifted absently to my Blue Ibishams, going over the different variations I might attempt for the next season, even though I wouldn't have Jonah's help the next time around.

Someone cleared their throat to my immediate left, and I startled before realizing who it was.

"Derrick," I wearily stated, and had to take a bite of marmalade toast to hide that I'd seen the flash of pain cross his face. He sank down just beside me, fiddling with some silverware while I tried to pretend I couldn't feel the palatable awkwardness roiling off him.

"We are…right?" he finally asked.

"We are…not."

"But yesterday-"

I looked at him, hating the distress on his face, immersing myself in it a moment before dropping my gaze.

"Yes, I know, but…."

"But."

His voice was hard, and I sighed. "I never meant to let you think that yesterday was…more than it was. You and me…it wouldn't work, Derrick."

"You just can't forgive me, can you? Do you know how many times someone hexed me to where my legs went numb, or even better, something that made piss leak out my nose every time I went to the urinal? I took a lot of shit last term over you, don't think I don't know who was doin' it and why."

"Well, I never said for anyone to do it, now did I?"

He sighed; "No, I know you didn't. It's just, I-"

We were interrupted by Harry shuffling up to the table, his face slack enough that I figured he was still half-asleep, and even though there was room all down the table, he unceremoniously dropped down on my right. He gazed blankly at his plate a moment before methodically piling food onto it.

"Eh, steer clear of the eggs this morning, Harry, they're tasting a mite odd," I warned, watching him pick up a sausage link with his fingers and try to use it like a fork.

"Yeah, 'kay, Bruce, me too," he mumbled, causing me to blink in confusion.

"Harry, you awake there, mate?" I asked dubiously, and he turned his head to blearily squint at me.

"Eh?" he grunted, frowning as I leaned towards him a bit. I went as to ask him again, or shake him or something, but was shocked to find myself lip locked with Harry once again, his tongue quick to engage mine and his hand holding firm to the back of my neck.

My squeak was muffled as I tried to free myself, sensing the deathly quiet that had just engulfed the Great Hall, but the intensity of the kiss dazed me into forgetting what protests I might have had for wanting this to stop.

Until, that is, a hand roughly grabbed onto my robes, sharply yanking me backwards and into reality, especially since I overbalanced due to the ferocity of the pull, falling from the bench and hitting the stone flooring with a meaty thwack, my head making a painful rebound. I swallowed down a cry of pain, my vision swimming with black and red dots and my stomach clenching as it rethought what I'd just eaten.

"Oh god, Neville, I'm sorry, I never meant…!"

Someone's hand floated into view and I latched onto it, allowing myself to be pulled up into a tight embrace. Once my stomach settled some and I trusted there'd be no instant display of my barely-digested breakfast, my eyes fluttered open to see the owner of the arms wrapped around my waist was probably the last person I needed it to be.

My eyes flicked instead to the table, seeing Harry's head resting down on his crossed arms, clearly fast asleep.

When I went to pull from his arms, Derrick's grip tightened, sending irritation flaring through me enough that I glared at him, his grip reluctantly easing free until I could finally pull away, slowly pulling myself upright and touching Harry's back to wake him up.

Only, Derrick flipped out.

"That's why, isn't it? You give me a bunch of shit when I'm telling you I love you, and _this is why_! You want the bastard so bad, you can have him! You know he's only going to die, but me, I don't _care_ anymore!"

I winced away from his furious yelling, watching him stalk off and out of the room. If all it had taken for Derrick to give me up was Harry kissing me , then the humiliation of it was well worth it. So, ignoring the stares, I pulled Harry from the table and to his feet, guiding him from the Great Hall.

He remained fairly well out of it until we made it back to our portrait, abruptly pulling to a halt and staring at me with a deep frown.

"What are we doing?"

I gave the password before turning back to him, tugging him with me--to his credit, he didn't resist, even though he continued frowning at me.

"You're going back to bed, Harry. Didn't you get any sleep last night?"

His frown eased some as he shook his head, mumbling about nightmares. Well, no wonder he's brain dead, I've seen him thrash in sleep from his nightmares before, there's absolutely nothing restful about them.

Once I got him to the dorm, he crawled into bed, collapsing on top of the covers and back into a dead sleep. Shaking my head in amusement, I removed his glasses before tackling his shoes, not surprised to see they weren't even tied to begin with.

Afterwards, I tried to make my way down into the common room, Ron squeezing past about halfway down, forcing me to pause as his motion triggered an intense wave of lightheadedness. I clutched at the wall for a moment, waiting for it to pass and feeling a return of my nausea.

Breathing slow and steady seemed to help, and I finally figured I was well enough to try heading for class--even if I took things slow, I would still make it with time to spare. Halfway there, though, my head began to ache, the pain forcing more roils of nausea through my midsection--I gave up on trying for class, choosing instead to shoot for the infirmary.

I hadn't gone far with that in mind before I had to again clutch for the wall, short nails scrabbling for purchase on the stone as my vision and balance swam all over the place. A sick groan tumbled from my lips when I chanced opening my eyes, the world tilting drunkenly around me. I squeezed my eyes shut again, standing there with breath ragged in my chest as I resisted the urge to showcase my internal organs.

"Longbottom."

Malfoy's voice was cold as ever, but I felt the concern that the one word contained beneath the ice. My breath shallow, I opened my eyes and pegged him with a glazed stare--his face remained expressionless, but his eyes appeared troubled.

"You look like complete shit," he commented, and a laugh barked out from between my clenched teeth.

"Good to know, I suppose," I managed dryly, and saw a small smirk grace his lips before the world grew tired of standing still, my eyes snapping shut on the sea-like motion.

"I think…I may have a concussion," I gulped softly, hearing an indignant snort that caused a humorless smile to pass briefly over my face.

His approaching steps were brisk, his tone just as much so as he said, "Well then, before you pass out or soil my robes."

And at that, there was a light pressure just above my left elbow, pulling me from the wall and guiding me towards the infirmary. Of all the people who might have chanced upon me standing there in the hall, Malfoy was probably one of those I'd least think of for aid, but I was grateful for his presence all the same.

At least now, should I lose the fight with consciousness, I wouldn't have to worry about what would be done to my prone body in the meantime. Then again, seeing as how this was Malfoy…he'd probably do something degrading to me for the amusement of it.

-

Somehow, Malfoy coerced my body into getting to the infirmary in one piece, although much of the journey seemed almost foggy.

"Mr. Longbottom, whatever is it this time?"

Madame Pomfrey's sigh cut through the hazy state of my brain, and I swayed slightly when Malfoy let me go, my eyes blinking away momentary flashes of white vision.

"I am most certain I have a concussion," I replied after a moment, and she made a sound in her throat that sounded an awful lot like she'd expected as much. I was led to an empty bed and told to sit, my legs rubbery once I let myself collapse down.

"Mr. Malfoy, were you in need of something as well?" she asked as she rummaged through her cabinet, the clinking of glass vials reminding me of one of Grandmother's wind chimes.

Malfoy's tone remained cool and borderline arrogant as he replied, "Nothing from you."

She looked over at him for a moment before stating, "Then I suggest you head on now to class."

He ignored the directive as if it hadn't been uttered, his eyes on me.

"Malfoy, as much as you're in love with me, I don't need you to stay and hold my hand, yeah?" I quipped, fighting back a bubble of laughter at seeing disgust twist his face.

"Ugh, piss off, Longbottom. You only _wish_ I'd hold your hand. You'd probably come all over it in your excitement, you poof."

His icy, disdainful voice had me losing the battle with laughter, groaning and holding my head even as I sniggered.

"_Mr_. Malfoy, if you please, leave now before I send for the head of your house."

He sneered at her, and at me for still laughing, but did leave with a soft swish of his robes.

My grin lasted for a few moments, gradually dying as Madame Pomfrey approached with a vial of something I knew probably contained something absurdly foul. I sometimes wonder if they make potions disgusting on purpose, as a deterrent against needing them in the future.

I downed it down regardless, choking a bit on the insanely bitter taste, a shudder rippling through my torso as she coerced me into lying down. I knew better than to protest, already feeling an outside drowsiness from the potion.

Clumsily kicking off my shoes, I barely heard their thuds on the floor next to the bed before darkness claimed me as its own.

-

It was just into the dinner hour when I next woke, and while the halls were relatively clear, I stumbled my way up to Gryffindor tower, climbing back into bed and into sleep, only to wake to silence in the dorm the next morning.

Chuffing slightly as I sat up, I ran a hand over my mussed hair before my eyes widened, realizing I was going to be late for my first class. I fumbled my way into uniform and robes before heading down to the Great Hall, hoping I'd at least find a way to snag some toast to pacify my growling stomach until lunch.

The first thing I noticed upon entering the Great Hall was the rise in the noise level, and then came the blatant, pointing stares as I made my way over to an abnormally silent table. Everyone avoided eye contact as I slid down into an empty space, and my anxiety level rose enough that I nearly forgot I'd come down for something quick to eat.

"What is it?" I pressed, grabbing a nearby apple and stashing it away in my pocket, already knowing I wouldn't have time before class. Hermione reached over and pulled something from beneath Ron's bum, causing him to squawk as he was forced to shift over, and then she handed whatever it was to me.

The tag at the top of the page proclaimed it to be The Daily Prophet, and a small frown marred my brow as I scanned the front page, expecting to see some story about 'You-Know-Who', or deatheaters. Instead, one of the top headlines declared in big bold letters my engagement to one Harry Potter. I nearly forgot how to breathe as I hurriedly scanned the text, reading about such offerings as our "steamy kiss" yesterday morning and Derrick's "scorned lover" declaration as evidence of our torrid romance.

Looking over the top of the paper, I hissed, "Since when does the Prophet deal with stupid rumors like this?!" before remembering that when it came to Harry Potter, even the Prophet would find such news as being worth printing.

Exasperated, I tossed the paper over my shoulder, reaching out and grabbing a piece of dry toast to cram into my mouth, my jaw working furiously as I chewed.

Ron coughed, holding in amusement as he ventured, "Well, you're taking this better than Harry--he rattled the silverware on the tables before storming out 'bout ten minutes before you came in."

I couldn't help the dry laughter that bubbled out of me, knowing exactly how Harry could be when upset. There was something to be said about his having learned some control, seeing how it didn't look like he'd broken anything this time around. But, knowing him, he was even now sulking about the dorm room, abandoned girl's lavatory, or quidditch pitch.

On top of everything, I was right--I didn't even have time to finish the toast before having to leave in a hurry for class.

-

There wasn't any sign of Harry until Herbology, when he startled me by coming up behind me and curtly whispering into my ear, "Meet me in the room of requirement after classes."

When I turned, I couldn't read his eyes behind glasses, but gave a nod before he drifted off as class began.

-

The stares and rude sniggering followed me around through every class, fraying my nerves as I fought to ignore the attention. There was no way I could stammer through an explanation of what had really happened, not once, and certainly not a million times, so I simply let it be. It was easier to just let people think what they want.

-

The last thing I wanted to do after my last class was trudge all the way through the castle to the room of requirement, my body sluggish and mind completely drained, but I'd promised Harry, so pushed myself so he wouldn't have to wait.

Indeed, when I finally found the right hall, he was leaning against a statue and idly tapping his fingers on crossed arms, looking even worse than I felt. I stood by quietly as he paced for the door to open, and let him lead the way inside.

A fireplace dispelled the slight chill that hovered over the room, the cheer of its light brightening my mood somewhat as I lowered myself onto the sofa sitting before the fire. Harry came and sat beside me, curling one leg beneath him as he stared into the crackling flames for a long moment; otherwise, the room was silent.

Finally, his voice floated up, "I did kiss you at breakfast, yeah?"

"You did."

He frowned a bit; "And the bollocks about us getting married?"

I sighed; "Derrick."

He blinked, looking at me for the first time; "He was there?"

I gave him a half-smile; "He was."

"Bugger."

I laughed slightly, and he had the strength for a wry grin before he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, a deep sigh rending his body.

Flames danced in his glasses, obscuring his eyes, but I knew he had something deep going on inside his head and simply waited for it to finish playing out.

"He said I was going to die," he said suddenly in a low voice, never looking away from the flames, "…And he was right."

"Harry-"

His face twisted then, tone hard and bitter, "Don't fucking fool yourself, Nev, everybody knows it. I see it every time I look in the mirror and see this damned scar--all it says is that I'm going to die fighting him."

He turned to me then, angry and in so much pain, "You really think that even if I manage to kill Voldemort that I'll _survive_ it? You think I don't want to get married, _be_ with somebody? But I can't, I _can't_. …I won't."

Tears sparkled hard in my eyes as I saw that glassy pain, throat a knot as I said, "I have to believe you'll make it, Harry, because I don't…I don't know what I'd do without you."

He stared at me a long moment before his face crumpled, letting me pull him into my embrace as his silent tears dampened my jumper. Even after he'd calmed enough to stop crying, he remained pressed against me, his cheek against my shoulder as he returned to staring at the flames, wet face reflecting orange and yellow.

After a time, he cleared his throat, startling me at the abrupt sound; "There's a clause."

"A what?" I asked blankly.

"A clause on my Gringott's account. …If I die without an heir or spouse, the money sits in an unused account until it's dissolved into the bank's main funds. Can't even name a beneficiary, it has to be a legal tie to my family name to transfer."

I had no idea he even had money in the wizarding world, and said as much.

"Inheritance, from my parents, and so on up the Potter line. But I'm the last, Nev, the last Potter ever."

His fingers fiddled with the sleeve of my jumper, his voice finally musing, "Well, unless…."

"Unless?" I pressed, when it became clear he didn't intend to finish the thought.

He sat back up, straightening his glasses before saying, "Unless we're married."

My mind blanked, and I squeaked, "Come again?"

He looked at me then; "If…if I die, I'd want someone who'd use it as it should, and…and I trust you, Nev. If you married me, you'd get everything, and I wouldn't have to worry about anything. Don't you see?"

Before I could even begin to formulate some kind of response, he added on quickly, "It's just a legal formality, you know, we'd still just be friends. I wouldn't care about, well, fidelity to the vows and all that."

I blushed scarlet, and before I turned my face in an attempt to gain some composure, I noted that Harry was just as uncomfortable as myself, his face blazing with color that didn't come from the fire-play this time.

As I sat there, stewing it over, I felt a feeling of injustice starting welling up in me, my voice a bit sharp as I finally said, "Tell me if I'm wrong, but…you want to marry me because of some stupid rule about _money_ and your morbid belief you're about to die, am I right?"

His swallow was audible when I turned my gaze at him, taken aback by the fierceness blazing in my eyes.

"It's a lot to ask, I know, but…other than you, there's nobody to ask, Nev. I can't ask this of Ron or Hermione. And it's not like…I mean, if I live, you'll still get some money when we sever the union."

There was so much fighting to be said that it stuck in my throat, frustration finally forcing me to nearly shout; "I don't want the bloody _ money_, Harry! I don't give a flying fuck about _any_ of it!"

As much as he fought to hide behind a blank expression, I saw how much I'd just shattered him, and had to close my eyes a moment.

"I don't care about the money, but it's apparent that it matters to you, so…if this is what you really want, Harry, I'll do it."

When I looked at him again, his mouth was open in shock, denial quick; "It could last years, Nev, I mean, who knows when Voldemort's going to be strong enough to make his move? You don't want to-"

"Harry, _shut it_. …Just when you get me to agree, you try to talk me out of it? You're not very good at negotiation."

He smiled a bit at my friendly admonition, somewhat bashful.

I lapsed into thought before asking, "After graduation, right? That's when we do it?"

He nodded; "After our birthday, actually. You wouldn't have to, you know, live with me or anything, but I've been meaning to ask if you'd stay at HQ anyway. It's safer there--I've already asked Ron and Hermione."

It was the first indication I'd gotten that he thought me strong enough to fight, that he _expected_ me to fight, and it was this more than anything that had me nodding in agreement. We sat in silence for a few more moments before he abruptly stood from the sofa, turning with a grin.

"Married."

"_Married_."

"Married!"

His joyful crowing made me laugh, and I didn't fight as he pulled me up and into a bone-crushing hug. As pleased as I was about seeing him truly happy for the first time in a long time, I found it a bit hard to breath, patting his shoulder a few times before he got the message and let me go.

"My name won't change, will it?" I queried once I could find the breath, and he shook his head merrily.

"None of that."

My relief made him laugh, leaning against my shoulder for support as he let himself be taken over by his flowing emotions, and I was happy enough to let him do so. It was as he began to calm that I neatly sidestepped away from him, leaving him to stumble down to the carpet beneath us.

I stood over him, shaking my head in mock-disapproval. "Psh, some hero you are."

"Shut it, you ponce, and help me up," he demanded lightly, holding a hand up for me to grip.

Smirking, I grabbed his hand and deftly hauled him up, amused as he made a show of brushing off his robes.

"Please, save the Malfoy impersonation, you don't think I see him often enough?" I teased, and he abruptly quit, a pained expression coming to fore.

"Don't compare me with _that_ wanker."

I didn't bother trying to correct him about Malfoy, because I know that even though I see a different side to the bastard doesn't mean anyone else can. I gave up hope for any reconciliation between those two a long time ago.

"Well, we're settled and all that, yeah? We're only almost late, and my stomach has had nothing in it but toast and an apple since this morning," I hinted, watching him wipe the merriment from his eyes before he nodded in agreement, resettling his glasses against the bridge of his nose.

As we walked towards the door, he quickly cut in front of me in order to open it, bowing and waving me through.

I jostled him with my elbow while passing, and he gasped dramatically, saying, "I think I've been insulted!"

"I think that was my intention," I quipped, and he snickered, belatedly jostling me back.

When we slipped into the hall and made our way to the table, Harry was much better at pretending he was alone in the room, ignoring the stares and whispers that needled me repeatedly until I reached the relative safety of sitting between Hermione and Dean.

But my discomfort didn't hamper my appetite any as I eagerly began heaping things onto my plate, nudging Dean to pass rolls even as I shoved a forkful of baked potato into my mouth. My saliva glands watered painfully, my stomach clenching tight in hunger.

Bringing a wonderfully yeasty roll to my mouth, I was just about to bite down when I heard Ron's incredulously hissing, "You did _what_?!"

The roll dropped from clumsy fingers and landed in a puddle of brown gravy, and I pouted a moment before looking up to see Harry's hand clamped over his best friend's mouth, Ron's eyes wide and staring at me. Harry hissed something low, dragging Ron's attention back to him before the redhead relaxed and gave a slight nod, Harry's hand pulling away.

When Harry caught my gaze, he arced an eyebrow before favoring me with a secretive smile, making me grin even as I used a fork to tear the gravy-sodden bit of bread free from the rest of the roll, savoring its yeastiness a moment before eating it.

-

It was about an hour or so that the common room cleared enough for any semblance of privacy if anyone wanted it, and once Harry had Ron and Hermione off to the side, I got up from a talk with a fourth-year and headed over to join them.

"…so perhaps you can explain to me just what the bloody hell you meant when you said you asked Neville to _marry _you!"

Ron's voice was pitched low but each word was snapped out precise, as if his voice was a loaf of bread chopped into intricate slices. Harry huffed out a breath, his eyes drifting up as he fought to put the situation into logical explanations.

"There's this clause, see, on my account in Gringott's-"

"Clause?" Ron interrupted, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, Ron. It's a stipulation on a contract…a note, a…rule. Like winning tickets to a match _if_ you enter."

He flushed in irritation; "I'm not daft, Mione, I _know_ what an effing clause is, alright? I only wanted to know what the clause _was_, not asking for clarification from Miss-Know-It-All."

"Well, if you'd let Harry go on, he would have _told_ you what it was for, but instead you asked in that tone of yours, that 'first-day-seeing-flobberworms' tone, the one that makes you sound daft, so don't blame _me_ when I-"

"**Enough**."

They blinked and stared at me, and I blushed a bit but nodded my head at Harry, a non-verbal hint that there were more important things to talk about.

"Right then, Harry, do continue."

He rolled his eyes at Hermione's prim recovery, but frowned a bit in thought, trying to pick up the thread of his speech before managing to do so.

"Right, so there's this clause that says I have to have a spouse or an heir to pass down my account rights--it's all family name, see? So I marry Nev, and he gets…well, all of it. All the money."

There was a pause as that sunk in, and then Ron turned on me, incredulous. "You're doing it for his _money_?!"

"Of course not! I've already told Harry I don't give a flying fuck about it, but he wants it, so I said I'd do it! …Besides, even if…well, if I get the money, I'd donate it or something. There are orphans you know, or…squib studies or something. It's not as if I need money."

I shrugged a bit helplessly, but then noticed the strange expression now on Harry's face.

"You'd donate money to orphans and the like?"

I fidgeted, wondering if he'd change his mind knowing I'd give it all away in a heartbeat upon his death, but nodded in affirmative. The strange expression became beaming pride, and my stomach flipped over in a rush, knowing that Harry Potter was _proud_ of me, that _any_one could be proud of me for something so simple.

"Neville's the best of us," Harry stated softly, his eyes still conveying that warm pride. I used to wish to see such pride in my father's eyes, but I couldn't see how it meant any less coming from Harry instead.

"So…," Hermione paused, breathing out before continuing, "…there's nothing romantic between you."

Heat sprawled down my cheeks at the thought, especially when Harry gave a sharp, "Of course not!"

Ron and Hermione shared a veiled glance, and Harry frowned, looking between them.

"What?"

Sighing, Ron rubbed at the back of his neck; "It's just, we thought maybe you'd find love…or some such mush," he flinched with a low 'ow' as Hermione knuckled his side, "…and that maybe Neville was it."

Harry's face burned as he looked away, still frowning, but I could see the sadness there.

"Harry…."

I didn't have to say anything else, his head nodding as he gruffly stated, "I know, I know…morbid. But I'd rather be prepared for the worst and come out ahead, than be surprised by a shit storm."

There was nothing I could think of to say that might take his mind off the possibility of dying. Any or all of us could be dead next month, next year, whenever. There's a great chance all of us could be dead alongside Harry, because that's where we plan to be during the thick of things--at his side. Where we have to be, even if he'd rather we didn't.

Finally, he looked up and looked at each of us in turn, "I'd rather this information doesn't go outside the four of us, right here and now."

"Not even Dumbledore?"

Something strange flashed through Harry's eyes at Hermione's question, but his voice was level as he said, "No, not even him."

I glanced at the others to see if they'd read that strangeness, as I had, but they gave no viable sign they had.

"Harry, this sounds like something he'd really want to know," Ron protested, and Harry's mouth pressed into a thin line.

"I don't doubt he'd would, but he's not my best mates. There are things he has to worry about more important than whether or not to keep quiet about this. …If news got out, think what could happen to Nev to spite me, to hurt me like they did with Sirius. I can't let that happen again--it's bad enough you lot are so close, but if anyone knew I'd married Neville Longbottom…I can't chance it."

Fear stabbed me, slicking the pads of my palms even as my mind ran through the many bloodthirsty scenarios of things that could happen to me to get to Harry. But through the fear was the resolute knowledge that I've always known I'd be there for him--he deserves people who risk as much as he has, what he will risk in the future.

I can't ask him to give his life if I'm not willing to do the exact same.

Sometimes, I wonder that Harry can read minds, for his eyes turned to mine and pierced me through, quiet a moment before saying, "You don't _have _to do this Nev."

"Harry…just doing my job, for being your _friend_, I'm in danger. You think I don't know? But that doesn't stop me from being there, hasn't stopped me when you needed me before. Tried to stop you first year all by myself, shaking in my boots, didn't I? But…whether or not we're married, I'm there, on your side."

The three of them were taken back by the determination in my voice, but I stared into Harry's widened eyes, willing him to trust my words for the oath I'd meant them to be. I wasn't fighting for the wizarding world, or for the ministry. I was fighting for Harry.

After a long and pregnant pause, he slowly nodded, accepting the informal promise, before he broke the tableau with a start, cursing below his breath.

"Bloody hell, I'm late for my lesson with Snape!"

Hermione's lips pursed slightly; "How do you know you're late?"

He snorted; "Always late, now 'ent I?"

Ron snickered, and Harry flashed a bit of a wry grin before rushing off.

The lightened tension slowly grew heavy again once I was left alone with Ron and Hermione, and I felt meeker, less capable.

"What?" I asked, voice cornered and small.

"You really meant all you said, about being on his side despite the danger?" Hermione pressed, eyes narrowed in thought.

"Well, yes, wouldn't have said so otherwise," I replied, confused, and saw her expression soften slightly.

"You're not in love with him, are you?" Ron finally blurted, as if it'd been the only thing on his mind for a long while.

"Are you?" I asked instead, irritated that we were back onto this.

Affronted, he snapped back, "He's my best mate, and I 'ent gay."

"So just because _I _am, I'm in love with him? Is that it?"

He blinked, uneasy, but then shrugged that maybe…that's what he'd thought.

"Harry's my _friend_, and he's not going to go alone."

They stared at me, seeing the hard determination on my face, and Ron finally nodded. Before we broke apart, we stood there a moment, three teenagers on the brink of something intense, vowing that come what may, we'd be there for the person who mattered the most.

* * *

A/N_: _until next week._  
_


	5. Lovers in the Backseat

next update. still appreciating the reviews, guys! have some family/school things coming up, but the plan is to still be able to keep posting a chapter a week until the story's complete. the original had about thirty chapters, but i condensed some of the earlier ones, so it'll probably be more like seventeen or so. we shall have to see.

dunno if anyone is a Sick Puppies/Aranda/Violent Soho fan, but they're in the OKC metro tonight. i'll be there.

_tuesday, 2 march, 2010. 1:34 am._

_  


* * *

_

_Before we broke apart, we stood there a moment, three teenagers on the brink of something intense, vowing that come what may, we'd be there for the person who mattered the most. _

_-- -- -- (chapter begins)_

The few months standing between the decision I'd made with Harry and our graduation sped by rather quickly, the stress of exams looming up far too soon. Stress from classes and increased defense training began taking its toll on nearly all of us, but Harry was quickly spiraling out of control.

His nightmares grew steadily worse, no longer induced by Voldemort but came from his own mind, grim scenarios and events that he would quickly forget upon waking. But there were some that never left him, haunting his eyes even when awake.

It was upon Ron or myself to stay up with him through the nights it became too rough, holding and soothing him even as he silently cried out his terrors. He never talked about the dreams, at least not to me, and we stopped cajoling him for explanations for the screaming, the wild-eyed thrashing that would only calm whenever he caught sight of one of us.

It hurt me, it hurt all of us, to see him falling apart beneath the stress, despite how much of it we tried to take on for ourselves on top of everything we already had to deal with. All the testing, the endless hours of studying and grueling training.

I found myself questioning the worth of all this struggle, if it was ever going to amount to anything, and the only thing that kept me from buckling under was seeing Harry's own self-doubt. His hold on sanity grew thin and fragile--I could tell, because I know the glow of insanity once it's taken root within a person.

I've grown up seeing it, and it'd frighten me to see it blaze up within Harry.

But when it was at its worst, whenever I'd see how easily it'd be for him to be lost to madness, I'd reach over and take his hand, my touch reminding him of the friends he'd always had on his side. It would take a while for the blaze to fade from beneath his skin, his eyes losing that glassy sheen before he could return my touch, fingers lingering a bit before being able to pull away.

It doesn't sound like much, but it was the least I could do, knowing he understood and appreciated the effort.

-

There were still times I wished for solitude for my own sanity, the castle's overbearing stone walls closing in around me, and I'd find myself outside. There was a particular stone bench I frequented often because of its unpopularity with the rest of the students, and I found myself there during the mid-day meal of an overcast day.

There were still hints of blue despite the gray sky, and I stared up as I enjoyed the slightly balmy breeze ruffling my clothes and hair. I hadn't felt like eating, despite the odd rumble coming from my stomach now and again--I was tired from staying up nearly all night and knew if I ate anything, I'd sleep through the afternoon classes.

Alone enough with my thoughts, I didn't even realize I had company until moments before a lithe figure sat down beside me on the bench, fine, blonde hair moving in the breeze unchecked. Neither of us spoke for quite a while, even though we exchanged slight nods of acknowledgement.

He was the first to break the easy silence with a quiet observation, "Potter's not looking well."

My eyes moved from the sky to nearby vegetation, mentally classifying it even as I replied, "Holding up the best he knows, same as the rest of us."

He nodded, thinking a moment before asking, "What are you plans after school?"

I squinted at a bush, trying to pinpoint it more precisely by shape of leaf, but said, "An auror, of course, but after the war…well, after the war, I rather think I'm going to take up botany."

"Pardon?"

A small smile graced my face, knowing he would be unfamiliar with the muggle term; "Working with plants without magic."

He gave off a barely-audible snort before giving a disdainful reply, "You would muddy about with boring greenery."

I let out a genuine laugh; "Indeed."

Looking over, I saw he sported a faint smile as well, and was glad to see it. I shifted somewhat, pulling my legs up onto the bench and resting my chin on my knees.

"What are your plans, then?" I asked curiously.

He picked some invisible lint from his robes, taking a moment before stating grimly, "Doesn't matter my plans, seeing how there's little chance I'll survive the war."

I huffed, frowning as I snapped off, "What is with you pessimists?! Merlin, am I the only hopeful optimist left in these walls who _isn't_ Hufflepuff?!"

His short bark of laughter pleased me, seeing him turn to me with a small grin. The moment was relaxed, and I abruptly came to realize just how much I valued his friendship; ten minutes alone with him was enough to settle a night's worth of frayed nerves.

I lowered my feet and turned to better look at him, putting him at unease at my sudden change of mood. When I abruptly thrust my hand out before me, he blinked at it a moment before taking it into his own, his hand cool as we shared a simple but firm handshake.

Still holding onto his hand, I solemnly promised, "No matter which end of the wand we end upon, Draco, I'll always be foremost your friend."

He dropped my hand as though I'd scalded him, looking away before I could comment on the whirling emotions passing through his unguarded eyes--I wisely kept to myself that I'd seen a momentary sheen of tears, allowing him to collect himself together in silence.

After a long moment, he finally cleared his throat; "You don't know how much I appreciate that, Neville."

He glanced at me, attempting to judge how I took this lapse in his bastard-like persona.

"I know that, Draco," I replied, and he nodded before looking away again.

We existed in silence a little while longer before standing and walking inside to our classes once more.

---

Before I really knew it, graduation loomed quickly. A bunch of us were in the dorm, keyed up before the upcoming ceremony, and there was a lot of good-natured ribbing and jostling about bets on which of us should have flunked out first.

Already, my thoughts ran towards my family, or lack thereof, so I wasn't as rambunctious as the rest. My looping thoughts had kept me up the night before, enough to know that Harry had another nightmare, but this one hadn't been so bad that he'd needed someone to be there for him.

But it had apparently been bad enough, for I spotted him sitting alone in the window, oblivious to the noise around him. For anyone looking hard enough, it was easy to see the waves of melancholy roiling from his morosely slumped form, and I had some inkling as to what was bothering him.

I managed to cross the room, ducking from a few light-hearted tackling attempts with varying degrees of success. Seriously, whoever had decided that caffeine before graduation was a good idea, especially for Ron and Seamus, should be made to suffer a pickled tongue for a week--those two needed to be tied to something stationary until after the ceremony, if only for the safety of everyone else.

After I finally made it over to Harry, I stood by him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He didn't look at or acknowledge me other than placing his hand over mine, but continued looking out the window--and somehow, I knew he wasn't just staring out at the over-bright sky.

When he finally did speak, it was in a low voice that wasn't necessarily directed so much to me personally as it was spoken in general; "I wonder sometimes what they'd think…if I…."

Then, more emotionally, "This isn't for us, you know, but for _them_. Something tangible for them to see how all their efforts paid off. One of those moments we suffer through to make them proud, to see the pride shining in their faces once they congratulate us. …I wish I could skip it, just go out somewhere and miss the whole damned thing, because no one…."

His voice had darkened with hurt near the end of his tirade, and my thumb gently grazed the shoulder beneath my hand, trying to convey some sense of comfort even as tears prickled my eyes. Those words struck home quite painfully for me, even though I had someone there, someone to tell me how proud I make her. I guess there _is _something to be proud of for me, I mean, I actually passed enough to become an Auror. Well, not that Hermione or Harry would have let me fail.

Harry finally looked up at me, his eyes dry but crinkling when he saw the wetness in mine.

"…I honestly don't know which would be worse…never knowing them at all, or them never knowing you."

My hand slipped from beneath his hand as I turned my face away at his brutally perceptive words, not wanting anyone to see the tears that were now falling freely. His hand followed mine, and it was his turn giving comfort, wisely not commenting on my tears.

After some time, I was able to wipe my face, and he released my hand as I did so, looking back out the window.

"Nev…you still want to…don't you?" he stumbled hesitantly, looking back in time for my nod.

"I'll ask Remus to have it done then, if you're absolutely sure you still want to do it," he said, and I blinked.

"Professor Lupin?" I repeated, and he nodded.

"Why him?" I asked, curious, and he worried at his lower lip before answering.

"I trust him to be able to do it quietly, more than if I tried to do it myself. …He was one of my father's best friends."

I hadn't known that, but I knew Lupin to be a good man, for he was always so around me third year.

Something told me I could trust him, so I said, "All right, Harry."

Some of the tension bled from him upon hearing it, and I teased, "Worried, were you?"

"Of course not," he scoffed, and I raised a dubious eyebrow.

"Okay…maybe a bit," he admitted, grinning sheepishly.

I bumped his arm with mine, and maybe the both of us were a little more willing to do what we had to than we had been before.

--

There ceremony was long and tedious, and as the minutes ticked away I could only rationalize that all the pomp and ritual was probably meant to force torture on us one last time. I felt quite mad by the time it ended, and the milling about afterwards was nearly as wrenchingly awful.

I happened to catch a glance of Harry talking with Professor Lupin, and almost smiled at his poorly-contained nervous energy. He caught my expression and abruptly stilled, giving a sheepish grin when I teased him with one of my own--he was going to be alright.

Once his attention turned from me, I was left with my own situation.

My grandmother was the one there for me, and for once, she didn't have all that much to say beyond the sad little smile she gave when we first met up. It didn't need to be said how much we both wished my parents were well enough to even know I was graduating…or at the very least, realize they had a son. It still hurts, you see, to know that my own parents couldn't recognize me from the sea of nameless faces they've ever encountered. I'm just a person who visits from time to time, each visit exactly like the first.

We stood in mutual silence for a long while, as if unsure what the other should say, until she finally cleared her throat.

"You've done well for yourself, Neville."

I nodded, my eyes fixed upon a spot on the floor some four feet in front of my shoes--anything so as not to see her mixed happiness and sadness. That look, that expression, has been fixed in my memory for as far back as I can remember.

"You mentioned you'd be…going into hiding," she finally prompted, her tone neutral enough that queasiness iced through my gut.

"To keep the family safe," I replied, taking the chance to look up so as to gauge her expression, hoping to glean what I could not from her voice alone. She held my gaze, veiled emotions there behind her eyes, but far too complex for me to even begin to decipher.

"You do what you feel is best," she conceded after a long while, and tension eased from between my shoulder blades.

"Of course, Neville, you will remember to visit your-"

I couldn't allow her to finish the sentence, cutting in with a brusque, "Yes, on my birthday. As always."

She nodded and we lapsed into another sort of silence, the air thick with everything we should have said but didn't.

-

Harry found me a while later, his smile absent at people who chattered at him as he took a light hold of my sleeve and pulled me aside.

"He wants to talk to you in person," he murmured lowly, and I swallowed back my nerves as I allowed him to lead me over to Lupin.

The man's gaze penetrated my defenses, my spine turned to mush and my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth. To cover my weakness, I shifted my feet before turning to Harry, voicing a question that had cropped up in my mind recently.

"What would happen should I die as well?"

He frowned; "They'd have to kill me before I'd allow it."

"Precisely my point, Harry."

He glared a bit for that, but finally said, "You don't have to worry about it, Nev, I can promise you that much."

"You can't possibly promise that, but regardless, I'm not letting you dictate whether I'm allowed to fight beside you. I'd catch up if you left me behind, and thump you for being an arse while I was at it."

Harry's eyes rolled but he gifted me with the ghost of a smirk, so I was startled when Lupin's hand settled down on my shoulder, drawing my attention.

"I will do this for you, Harry, Neville is a good man. Let us hope this is merely precautionary."

Tension in Harry eased up, and he pressed, "Can you get it done by our birthday, Remus?"

"I can have it ready to sign the day of, yes."

"I'm visiting my parents that day," I stated quietly, and saw Harry's hesitance.

"It really wouldn't take long, Nev, you could do both."

Worrying at my lower lip a moment, I finally decided that it wouldn't hurt to shorten my visit, if needed, and so nodded my agreement. Lupin stared at me a moment, as if trying to ascertain whether I was completely certain--whatever he saw in me must have satisfied him, for he clapped Harry's shoulder just once in a farewell before moving on.

When Harry's eyes met mine, the peace this talk had instilled in him was worth the stress of thinking about it, and I managed to somewhat smile.

--

On our last night in the castle, a melancholy welled up and settled in along my bones.

Hogwarts was as much my home as the home I shared with my grandmother, perhaps even more so. I had never fit in very well here, but I'd had my niche, my place of coexistence. Hogwarts was a safe world to which I couldn't return, and knowing just how uncertain the future was becoming made its loss that much sharper. The only measure of comfort I had at all was knowing I wasn't going to be alone, that Harry wasn't going to be alone, because we were coming with him.

There was a celebration amongst our house, our year, but it was more subdued than last-year parties had been in the past.

Even still, my heart and mind weren't into the festivities, so I made what would probably be my last trip down to the greenhouses, seeking the feeling of comfortable solitude they'd been able to give me for so many years.

We have a greenhouse on my grandmother's estate, and I'd already planned on sending along some Blue Ibishams for the collection, though I was wary on how they'd fare without my personal care and attention.

I brooded over the desperately inane matter for a while before being distracted by hesitant footsteps, Harry's training enough to put me on the defensive without thought. Only, I quickly saw it was just Jonah, his hands twisted up with each other as he gazed at me nervously. I relaxed and offered a soft smile to show there weren't any bitter feelings between us, and he came and knelt down into the dirt with me.

I let him speak up first, the silence stretching for a moment or two before he asked, "There really wasn't anything there between us, was there?"

"Affection," I replied honestly, and his nod was a bit absent, staring at the plants.

"I…I hated to do it, Neville, but he said…. I'm sorry," he finally bit out, digging at the dirt with a fingernail as he avoided looking at me.

"It's ok, Jonah," I reassured quietly.

"But I hurt you," he protested, voice pained as he finally looked over, remorse etched around his eyes.

I gave another soft smile as I reached over for his hand; "Really, it's fine. Everything from before…it doesn't matter anymore."

It seemed like eons since the trivial matters of just a few months ago had mattered to me at all--there were far more pressing things on my mind, these days.

"It's true, then?" he blurted, jarring me from my thoughts.

"What's true?"

He chewed at the inside of his cheek, choosing his words carefully before asking, "You're going to marry Potter?"

I rolled my eyes; "Don't tell me you're buying into all that too."

His forehead creased with confusion; "You're not? I thought…I mean, I was _there _that morning. You never kissed me like that."

A slight pink flared up on both our faces, and I coughed a bit to clear my throat.

"Harry was dreaming, or something, and I was just…shocked. Surprised the bloody hell outta me, actually. It shouldn't have happened, but it's not a big deal like everyone thinks."

"But you…love him, right?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"What? We're just friends! Merlin, does _every_one think we're together?" I demanded with some exasperation, his blush returning in force as he stammered an apology.

I huffed, eyes returning to the plants and grasping on anything to change the direction of conversation.

"I'm going to leave some Ibishams's for you."

I caught a bit of the excitement that flared up on his face, pleased the sudden decision had been a good one.

"They're as much yours as mine, I'd never had been able to pull it off without your help," I pointed out, honest, and was somewhat surprised when I abruptly had an armful of grinning blond. He gasped out his gratitude and I laughed, putting a briefly affectionate, friendly kiss on his lips, allowing him to continue hugging me.

When he pulled back, genuine pleasure radiated from his face. "I'm going to miss you, so, so much!" he proclaimed, a bit teary, but his face split into a grin as he pushed up and finally left.

I sat there a good long moment, basking in the gratification I'd received from such a small gesture, a smile playing at the corners of my lips before I sighed in self-satisfaction.

"So, you've patched things with Jonah, I see."

Harry's voice was pleasant as he moved over towards me, and I turned with a slight grin.

"Yeah, a bit."

When he lowered down next to me, he aimed a disdainful glance at the damp soil, and the expression reminded me so much of Draco that I nearly mentioned it, biting back the wild remark moments before it could fly from my tongue.

"Missed you up in the common room," he finally commented, and I nodded slightly.

"Just not in the mood to celebrate."

His nod was one of understanding, and my thoughts turned a bit inward as I resumed doing some minor gardening work.

Unable to keep it back, a question came unbidden from my mouth and into the air between us, "You ever love someone, Harry?"

When I glanced over, he was blinking at the sudden subject change, but replied, "Not so much in the traditional sense, I suppose."

Then, looking at me askance, "You?"

I formulated an answer; "I thought I…no, I _did _love someone. But it wasn't mutual."

"He the one you…?"

He flapped a hand awkwardly into the air, an obscure euphemism for what he was really asking, and my face burned fiercely as I nodded.

He was thoughtful a moment before admitting, "I didn't love mine, I can't even remember his name anymore. He was really nice to me though, I remember that. And as far as I know, he never did tell anyone how he fucked the Boy-Who-Lived."

I snorted, "Merlin, why would he want to, what's so special about the Boy-Who-Lived?"

Harry's mouth dropped open in unveiled hurt, and I flushed before amending my choice of words, "Why want someone famous when you could just have 'Harry'?"

He struggled for words, the fact that he understood my meaning was clear on his face, and he finally managed to huskily ask, "Nev, can I kiss you?"

My breath caught, my nod almost imperceptible as I stared at him. We've never kissed like this, by ourselves, and I was drawn to the concept a lot stronger than I would have thought. My stomach flopped around as he moved, leaning closer and then gently kissing me, his fingers grazing the base of my neck as he did so.

When he pulled back a bit, his breath was just as gentle as it brushed against my warm mouth, "Thank you."

I'm not sure when I realized I was closing the distance between us again, just suddenly aware that I'd done so when his tongue was against mine, languid but with an underlying heat that drove fire down my spine. He mindlessly began pushing me back, down into the dirt, and I willingly complied, over-helpful in the movement as I touched his shoulder, feeling the strength of him.

I dimly felt his hand sweeping inside my robes, searching for skin, but before he managed to, Ron's voice broke through our haze; "Oi, Harry, you in here? Nev?"

We jerked apart as if snapping out of a dream, Harry scrambling off and away from me before calling back, "Yeah, be right there."

We refused to look at each other as we hastily straightened ourselves up, me tugging my jumper back into place and him smoothing out wrinkles in his robes--there was awkwardness and confusion sparking between us, something different than anything that'd ever been there before.

Harry was first to leave, scurrying to the entrance without even a glance back, and I quickly hurried to catch up. Ron stood just outside the doors, relieved when we both came into view.

"Worried when I'd noticed you two slipped off," he gently admonished as we walked back to the castle.

"We were talking," Harry explained, and I nodded in unnecessary agreement, Ron taking Harry's word for it.

Whatever had happened, or almost happened, was going to remain buried and unspoken, which was more than fine by me. …Even if I could still feel the blistering heat of his hand through my clothes, that husky tone in his voice that sent a liquid spike through my extremities.

Could still feel Harry.

* * *

A/N: so begins the after-school hijinks.


	6. Every Planet We Reach Is Dead

i apologize for the shortness of this chapter, but the next breaking point afterwards would make this chapter fifteen pages, which i consider 'one-shot' length. but anyway. i'm updating a bit early because i don't know if i'll have the chance later on in the week. a personal loss in my family is looking eminent, so i'm making sure i have all my bases covered for the week, just in case. i don't say that trying to garner sympathy or anything, so don't feel obligated to mention it unless you really want to.

there were two reviewers i haven't gotten to reply to yet, so i'm going to mention you here and hope you forgive me: **TheyCallMeCyclone**, and **serenityselena**. thank you, both of you, as well as the rest of my reviewers to date.

* * *

_Whatever had happened, or almost happened, was going to remain buried and unspoken, which was more than fine by me. …Even if I could still feel the blistering heat of his hand through my clothes, that husky tone in his voice that sent a liquid spike through my extremities. Could still feel Harry. _

_-- -- -- (chapter begins)_

Moving into Grimmauld Place was emotionally trying, even if it carried with it a sense of familiarity--the bustle of life there was almost like returning to Hogwarts. There were always people coming and going at odd times of the day, and it was rare to find any peaceful lull of activity excepting early mornings or late evenings, just the four of us sharing communal space.

Without the buffer of school, it was soon apparent how out of place I was within their group, the odd man out of their trio.

I sometimes sat alone wishing for the comfortable tranquility of my grandmother's house, where there weren't long, darkly empty corridors. Where I didn't raise goose bumps walking around by myself, mysterious artifacts and furnishings lurking around every unknown corner. But Grimmauld was the safest place for Harry outside Hogwarts, and I'd already proclaimed that where he lived, that's where I'd be too.

Even though I didn't know the entirety of things, I knew enough to understand how the house plagued Harry with thoughts and guilt over his godfather, immense shadows etched in the hallows of his face whenever he spent too much time alone. So I threw myself into the task of never leaving him alone, joining him whenever he threw himself into work and training, drowning his thoughts through exhaustion. But with the rising levels of stress came an increase in his nightmares--he was often the last to bed and the first to rise.

There were mornings I'd drift down to the kitchen to find him slouched at the table, coffee steaming from his pores in such a way that I knew he'd never slept at all. Whenever one of us offered to stay with him at nights, he'd snap about privacy, or state that one person losing sleep was more than enough.

Hermione talked with him at great length about it, but even her gently stubborn logic couldn't sway his mind.

-

I jerked out of deep sleep, my hand automatically shooting for the bedside table and gripping my wand even before my eyes were completely open to the dark. Ears straining, it was soon apparent that I'd been woken by screaming.

As I stumbled out of bed, I became wrapped up in my blankets and fell heavily to the floor, my teeth rattling from the thud. I barely felt it, managing to scramble back up.

When I cracked open the door, the screaming became more audible, enough for me to realize it was Harry--I could see a light spilling from his open doorway. My footfalls were soft slaps as I ran down the hall, only to half-collide with Hermione just as she bolted from his doorway.

"Neville…!"

Her gasping breath and wide eyes prepared me for the worst, desperate terror obviously gripping her tight, and I shouldered past and into the room.

Harry thrashed on his bed, naked upper torso slicked with sweat as his legs twisted in the sheets, gut-wrenching screams erupting out of his raw throat as Ron attempted to still his movements with little success. I could feel the banked power reverberating from Harry, and it pulled me from my frozen plateau, my steps steady as I approached the bed and crawled onto it. My hands instinctively went for his shoulders as soothing words tumbled from my lips, my mind not focusing so much on their meaning so much as their effect.

Perhaps thirty seconds later saw him beginning to gradually calm, his screams dying off into ragged whimpers that eventually morphed into harshly wracking sobs.

Still running on autopilot, I pulled him up into my embrace, cradling his ropey form as I rubbed circles into his damp back, his tears wetting my t-shirt. Grandmother used to hold me this way when I was younger, almost up to my first year at Hogwarts.

I used to suffer terrible night terrors, my nightmares of a different variety than Harry's, but just as devastating. Grandmother had always been there to comfort me when I woke screaming into the dark, until the dreams gradually faded away with maturity. Even still, they left behind a faint fear of the dark when by myself, my palms slicking with sweat as my mind conjures up monsters and horrors lurking for me in the shadows.

Once Harry eventually cried himself out, he slid back into an exhausted sleep, dead weight against me. I wouldn't have minded letting him stay that way for as long as possible, but my arms were turning numb, and the leg supporting most of his weight had lost all feeling for quite some time.

Under my quiet direction, Hermione and Ron helped me ease Harry back against his mattress without waking him, and I was able to work out the kinks in my body from holding him for so long.

"You were ace, Neville, really," Ron praised, his eyes showing relieved exhaustion.

"Know a thing or two about nightmares," I stated lamely, giving a wide yawn that made tears streak down my face.

Exhaustion cruelly reminded me of the extremely long walk back down the hall to my room, and I found myself curling up next to Harry, his warmth at my back as I felt and heard the other two do much the same.

We fell asleep there, like a small den of puppies in one bed.

-

"…What're you wankers doing in my bed?"

My eyes bleared open at the slurred question, my brow furrowed a moment before I gave a slight yawn.

"Don't remember the drunken orgy then, 'Arry?"

There was a long, pregnant pause as he mulled that over before giving a contemptuous snort; "Liar. I 'ad a nightmare again. …All rather fuzzy, but I do remember you. Made it better, I think."

There was a sleepy sigh before Ron piped up, "Yeah, 'e's as good as Mum 'bout stuff like that."

I felt a blush rise up, and rolled onto my back as I muttered, "Was nothin'."

I stretched a bit, hearing faint crackles down my spine from sleeping in such a cramped position for most of the night. Harry shifted and ended up leaning over me, his face just in view, and I dimly noted how all the crying the night before had crusted his eyes a fair bit, and was hit with the impulse to scratch it away for him.

"Not nothing, Nev, it meant a lot, knowing you were there, pulling me out. So, thank you."

I awkwardly shrugged, unable to meet his gaze as I muttered something in return, causing him to sigh as he pulled back out of sight.

After a moment, he finally announced in a more normal tone, "Don't suppose one of you wankers could let me out, I gotta piss."

I snorted and sat up, creakily moving from the bed and again giving a lazy stretch. More joints popped into place as my shirt rose up, exposing my stomach as a low grunt slipped from my throat.

"Whoa, that was sexy," Harry quipped, making me blush as I abruptly stopped my movements.

"Shut up," I grumbled, a bit cross and embarrassed enough to cross my arms over my chest.

"Was only a compliment," he teased.

"Only when it's true," I shot back, leaving the room before he could continue on with the subject.

Once outside the doorway, I paused, forehead lightly resting against the cool paper covering the walls, ashamed of the small amount of tears threatening to fall. I angrily wiped them away with the back of my hand and continued down the hall, the door shutting behind me with a faint click as I sourly crossed the room to my closet.

Opening the door, I pulled off my t-shirt, leaving me standing in pair of gray cotton shorts before my mirror, my reflection in a much brighter mood than myself. The reflection gave a slight grin and waved a bit, but my eyes were drawn into critically examining the image. I'm gaunt in all the wrong places, chubby where I shouldn't be, and all around unattractive. Well, perhaps not so harsh as _unattractive_ so much as…ordinarily plain. I wanted nothing more than to cover up the reflection so I wouldn't have to see it all the time…or ever again, for that matter.

Instead, I hurriedly grabbed some clothes and dressed, eyes stoically avoiding looking into the mirror before I'd managed to close the closet door once more.

As I went to leave, I experienced a brief bout of panic, realizing my wand was missing, frantic before remembering I'd carried it with me to Harry's room the night before. Relieved, I left my bedroom and headed back down to Harry's, first making a stop in the lavatory to take care of some morning business.

Harry's door was closed and I knocked, entering when he called out to do so.

"Left my wand here," I explained, but his reply was muffled while pulling a shirt over his head.

Glancing over at the bedside table, I saw my wand and quickly walked over to reclaim it, relief flooding me that it was back in my possession.

I took a step backwards before turning, nearly experiencing a heart attack when I practically fell against Harry, he was standing so close.

He caught me on reflex, crying, "Whoa!"

"Merlin, what're you trying to do, _kill_ me?" I snarked, my heart thumping wildly in shock and my breath a faint gasp.

His look was apologetic as he gave a lopsided smile, "Sorry, Nev, I didn't 'spect you to turn like you did. Was just coming to get my glasses from the table."

"You could have at least _warned_ me," I reproached, feeling stupid for blowing it out of proportion but unable to stop my mouth from running off.

Harry's apology died as he became distracted, eyes staring at my mouth as his thoughts spilled off into different directions, and I unconsciously bit my lip, surprised when he drew a step closer.

"Harry…?"

He was too close, my skin crawling with nerves as I abruptly broke away, stepping past him before looking back, frowning in my confusion. He stood where I'd left him, face tilted towards the floor now before he turned his head and looked back at me, face unreadable.

"S-s-see you downstairs, yah?" I finally blurted, leaving when he gave a faint nod.

I met up with Hermione just as I reached the head of the stairs, falling into step with her as we walked down.

"Something wrong?" she queried, sharp eyes missing nothing.

"I don't know…Harry was strange. He talk about what the nightmare was about this time?"

My attempt at changing the subject worked, although she avoided my gaze as she muttered something about it being more of the usual, before asking if I liked pancakes.

Down in the kitchen, I was attentive as she whipped up a quick batch of pancakes--upon learning I had some interest in learning to cook, Hermione and Harry began teaching me simple every-day meals. Now I make or help cook meals every other day or so, my repertoire growing steadily. I found pancakes to be exceedingly simple, and once I'd mastered the knack of flipping them without breaking their shape, I had quite a stack ready by the time Harry and Ron joined us downstairs.

"…just saying you've got to be _patient_, is all," Ron said as they entered the room, and Harry gave off a heavy sigh as he slouched down at the table.

Glancing over, I noted he seemed as glum as ever, so piled up a few extra pancakes onto a plate specially for him.

I deposited the plate in front of him at the table, plunking down a warm jug of syrup as I proclaimed, "These'll make ya right as rain, 'Arry, made 'em myself. …Well, they won't kill you, at any rate, though they just might come close."

He blinked down at the plate a moment before looking back up at me, a grin spreading across his face. "I'm sure they're great."

"Mmphf, they _are_," Ron praised, mouth already full of pancake and syrup and looking content.

I smiled and set about finishing up the rest of the batter.

"I'm really getting to like cooking," I announced as I poured just enough syrup onto my plate to get my food damp. Too much makes me queasy.

"Yer damn good at it, Nev, never would have thought, but you get my vote," Ron remarked, making me grin somewhat.

"Eh, not that great, it's not that I know much more than this," I protested.

"You'll learn," Harry predicted, giving a playful wink as he grinned.

"You've dripped, there," Hermione pointed out, and he wrinkled his nose at the darkening stain on his shirt.

"Engh, sticky," he grumbled, wiping at it a it.

"You shouldn't pile it on, then," I commented, seeing as how his breakfast was more syrup than pancake, to me.

"But I _like_ it," he stubbornly protested, causing me to roll my eyes.

Everyone knows about Harry's sweet tooth, he'd always had some sweet or candy during school, and that hasn't changed since. At least he's usually generous with whatever he had, often offering pieces without needing to be asked.

Sometimes, I think he's generous to a fault, but it's just something that makes him who he is. Like his odd hero complex. He complains about being known as a hero, hates all the public scrutiny and attention, and yet, he dashes off at the first sign of danger to live up to the reputation like some kind of manipulated puppet.

Well, perhaps I exaggerate, but not by much.

Perhaps I'm just a bit bitter on the idea that because he'd survived some fluke as a child he's expected to take out the most indestructible wizard the world has ever had to offer. I mean, seriously, how many times has that asshole died? Five or six times?

And I know that although Harry's determined to accomplish the impossible and wipe the bugger from our existence, the very thought of actually having to kill someone turns his appetite. I know his dreams sometimes stem from this, that he's killing people, people he _knows_. Killing kids we grew up with, kids from school who chose to follow He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

As much as I'd like to, I can't stupidly delude myself into thinking that we'll be killing nameless bad guy lackeys, that there won't be faces and names I once thought I knew beneath those masks. Kids I ate meals with three times a day, attended classes with.

Unbidden, Draco Malfoy came to mind--not the sneering, cruel, prideful, sarcastically annoying git, but the one I saw the day I'd promised he'd always be my friend. I don't know what I'd do if I had to watch him die. If it came down to killing him before he kills me. Could I even do it? Could he? That's one of the biggest unknowns…whether or not he'd be able to perform the killing curse on me.

If I mean as much to him as he means to me.

So wrapped up in my morbid internal ranting, I was unaware of the conversation around me, answering at random when asked something in Harry's teasing voice. The near-deafening silence that fell upon my careless remark brought me out of my reverie, my eyes flicking to three stunned faces before Ron's morphed into anger.

"_That_ bloody ponce?!"

"What? Who?"

I was confused, especially seeing cold rage in Harry's eyes as he hissed, "Draco _fucking_ Malfoy, that's who."

He stood and deposited his sticky dishes into the sink with a noisy clatter before storming from the room.

I gaped after him before absurdly asking, "…Was it something I said?"

Ron snorted, pushing syrup around his plate with the tines of his fork.

"What?" I demanded.

He shook his head in irritation as he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "_fucking arse_," before pushing away from the table, leaving his dishes as they were as he left the room after Harry.

I frowned in dismayed confusion, glaring down at my half-eaten breakfast. It didn't give me any answers either, choosing to instead mock me with the fact that all the syrup I'd poured over it had been sucked up by the now dry-looking slab of pancake. Unappetizing.

"You actually have no idea what Harry asked you, do you?" Hermione stated astutely, eyes piercing me.

"No, and now I'm buggered," I snapped, fork stabbing unmercifully at my disgusting breakfast.

"…You were thinking of Malfoy," she hedged, curious at my glum nod.

The truth tumbled free beneath that stare of hers; "About what I'd do if I have to kill him."

I glanced up, seeing her mouth in an 'O' of surprise before she recovered enough to close it.

"Well…that was random," she ventured, but I shrugged, still unsettled at that anger in Harry's eyes.

She stood and gathered up Ron's plate with hers, depositing them into the sink after rinsing away the syrup first.

As she made her way from the room, I suddenly pressed, "What did he ask me?"

Her look was one of amusement as she peered over her shoulder at me; "Only who it is you wank off to."

This time it was my mouth falling open in surprised mortification, a blush flooding my cheeks. "And now he thinks I…bugger."

"Precisely that, I'd assume," she replied cheekily, her laughter floating after her as she left me alone.

Merlin, why do I always manage to fuck these kinds of things up? I sat there stewing for a while before finally getting up and performing the simple spells needed for cleaning up, only breaking one plate in the process. …I'm getting better at this.

* * *

A/N: until next time.


	7. Just the Same for You

i apologize for missing this week's installment. life things, and all that jazz. thank you to **lynxzpanther** for the reviews. i hope you forgive me for not responding to them individually.

_saturday, 20 march, 2010. 2:06pm._

* * *

_I sat there stewing for a while before finally getting up and performing the simple spells needed for cleaning up, only breaking one plate in the process. …I'm getting better at this._

_--- --- --- (chapter begins)_

It wasn't long afterward that business cropped up that made having to think about the breakfast incident float off into the distance. Being an auror isn't that great or posh a job as some used to think. It's exciting at moments, yes, a burst of adrenaline when first engaging in duels with the enemy, but so much of our work is hampered by paperwork. Documents about our orders, procedures and fuckall red-tape. Bureaucratic runaround.

I could live without the danger-induced adrenaline and soul-numbing boredom between, thanks.

Anyway, once we were working, it was easy to forget the tensions in our group--we have to rely on each other for each other's safety as well as our own. We're one of the closer knit teams that way. We sometimes split into other teams, or are temporarily joined by others for select missions, but we stay at our core as a group.

There's never a day that goes by that Harry doesn't have one of us by his side at all times.

I know it both relieves and annoys him when one of us wordlessly joins him whenever he leaves headquarters--it bothers him that he can't ever go someplace without his 'escort', but it gives him peace of mind knowing we care enough to do it despite his incessant carping on the subject.

Harry had an errand in Diagon Alley later the day of our argument, and I was the only one with nothing to do, so became his unofficial escort for the day.

I tagged along as we walked some distance away from HQ, apparating just behind the Leaky Cauldron. There are several entrances closer to Diagon Alley, but Harry has some kind of sentimental attachment with the bricks. I let him tap in the sequence, knowing I'd never remember the combination, even if I wrote it down on my hand.

We spoke nary a word as we walked through the bustling streets to various shops on the way, and I finally couldn't take much more of the unnaturally strained silence.

"Just _say_ it, Harry," I snapped, anger barely checked that he was taking the silent treatment so far.

"Say _what_?"

His tone was clipped and artfully distracted, and he refused to look at me, which would never have happened had he not been furious with me.

I stopped in my tracks, tugging his sleeve to force him to do the same, and his gaze snapped down to the offending hand wrinkling his robes before his glare snapped to me, a shrugging slap had my grip flying off.

"_This_," I ground out between clenched teeth, wounded by the slap to the hand more than I'd have liked to admit.

"Why are you being so hostile?" I demanded, pride forcing the pain in my voice to remain deeply hidden.

He brushed out the wrinkles I'd left with an arrogant air, one I knew far too well from having seen the same from Malfoy.

"I am not hostile," he replied, tone lofty.

"The bloody _hell_ you're not," I retorted, arms tightly crossing my chest as I frowned.

His eyes flashed, and I knew I'd succeeded in provoking an honest response.

"Thanks for telling me about your fucking crush on the one Draco _Malfoy_, Deatheater heir! I'm supposed to be your friend, but you never tell me _anything_!"

My eyes were dangerous as I narrowed them, hissing, "It's always about _you_, isn't it, Harry? All this shit is just about your wounded pride over some stupid misunderstanding. Well, guess what…my friend you may be, but my life doesn't revolve around fucking _Harry Potter_."

His face blotched as though I'd physically hit him, the obvious, unveiled wounds in his eyes sucker-punching me in the gut.

"Excuse me for presuming I'd ever mean as much to you as you do to me," he quavered, turning and continuing on without me.

I stared after him, dumbfounded into non-action until I abruptly lost sight of him in the crowds. Scurrying to catch up, I hurried off in the direction he'd gone and happened upon him standing not too far away, sheepishly waiting for me to show up.

We stood there for a few moments, unable to look at each other in our embarrassment. He fidgeted about nervously, eyes constantly scanning everyone casually passing by, and repeatedly shoving his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with a forefinger.

"Look, Nev, about what I said…," he began awkwardly, but I bluntly interjected.

"You're possessive, Harry."

He blinked at me before demanding, "I'm _what_?"

My gaze steady, I calmly replied, "Possessive. You're so afraid you'll lose the people closest to you that you become frightfully possessive."

His eyes widened a bit, and I gentled my tone, "But it doesn't matter, because no matter what, you're my friend. …Besides, I don't have a crush on Malfoy, I don't have time to think about any blokes, period. So…no worries, yeah?"

"Scary," he muttered, staring at me.

"…Eh?"

"It's like…you looked in my head and poked about a bit when I wasn't looking," he admitted quietly, and I smirked.

"I don't have to, you always wear your heart out on your sleeve. A terrible poker player, just as Dean always said."

"Oi, that's rich, coming from the bloke who can't even remember how to get a full house! Or any of his passwords. Or most incantations. Or even what he's managed to forget…_again_," he teased, and I submitted to the abuse, glad we were back to being normal again.

At one point, we stopped so he could get Hedwig some more owl treats, and I perused the pets offered while waiting. Trevor died before seventh year, and I really haven't had the heart to get another pet. Most likely, I'd forget to feed it and end up killing it within a week. Really, Trevor survived on no merit of my own.

"See something you like, Nev?" Harry quizzed curiously, light glinting off his glass as he walked up beside me, his wand giving the sack in his hand a flick so it'd shrink down to fit in a pocket.

"Not really. I'm a jinx; you know that," I replied, tone wistfully morose even as I shrugged off the question.

"Hm."

The sound wasn't really one of agreement, but before I could think to pursue the topic, we were walking from the shop, the bangle of bells following us out.

"Why bells?" I mused distractedly, and Harry smirked.

"Deuced if I know," he replied with some humor.

He's used to my absentmindedness, how my mind goes off on tangents without rhyme or reason sometimes. I mean, we've only known each other for seven years.

"Harry, our birthday is next week," I suddenly announced, and saw him reflect upon it a bit.

"So it is. Did you need to do some shopping?" he asked curiously, puzzled as to why it'd garner any sort of fanfare.

"Have you forgotten what we're doing that day?" I harshly whispered, and saw understanding bloom in his eyes.

"Fuck, I _did_ forget! …How is it you remembered before me?"

I let the remark slide past without comment, even though I felt oddly affronted to do so. "Lupin's still doing it, right?"

He nodded, and I questioned, "How can he keep it secret from the press?"

He shrugged.

"Oh, so you don't care so long as it gets _done_," I asked, rolling my eyes.

"Yeah, that sounds about right," he teased, but then sobered a bit, "I trust him, Nev. He knows how to do things, and isn't above cheating the law to do it."

Something led me to believe Lupin might have done things for Harry in the past that weren't entirely legit, and I chewed my lower lip into painful sores as we finished up the rest of Harry's errand.

-

I approached Hermione for help making Harry's birthday present, knocking lightly on her open door just a few evenings past the argument. She was sorting out clothing on her bed, hands occupied as she turned and smiled, face brightening with genuine warmth.

Hermione was never too busy to listen to me in school, even though I knew she always had better things to do with her time, but it's a kindness that made all the world to someone like me.

Even today, she gestured with her chin to come into the room, so I did, gently shutting the door behind me for in case Harry were to walk by. My action made her pause, confusion in her eyes as she finished up with the soft jumper in her hands.

"Do you think you could help me make something for Harry for our birthday?"

Her answering smile was easy, eyes bright with avid curiosity.

"I could try, anyway. What did you have in mind?"

"Chocolates."

She blinked; "Chocolates."

I nodded, fiddling with the sleeve of my shirt. "That muggle kind he likes. I want to make it myself, you know? The kind in the little shapes, or on sticks."

She remembered the kind I meant, the ones she'd brought back from a muggle store some time ago. Harry had liked the chocolates on sticks best, hoarding them all for himself--that's the only time I've ever seen him so reluctant to share. Even still, I was successful in coercing some off him, smuggling one to Ron as he'd failed to do the same.

"Oh, he'll _love_ them! And they're so easy to make, we can do it in the kitchen under an hour, easy! Only…I don't see how we could make them in secret, like."

She was excitedly enthusiastic, and my uncertainty melted.

"He's gone all day with Ron tomorrow. Duties for the ministry, he said."

"Brilliant! We can make whole batches, with flavorings and _everything_!"

I had to grin at her enthusiasm, glad that she approved of the idea. I thanked her and slid from her room, leaving the door open as I'd found it. A giddy smile spread across my face as I thought about how Harry would react once I'd handed the chocolates to him.

"Conversations you don't want anyone else to hear?"

Ron's dry voice startled me, my hand stuttering to my wand before I realized it wasn't some kind of ambush…well, one from enemies, at any rate.

The tall redhead stood in his doorway, arms crossing his chest as he leisurely leaned against the frame. I turned to better face him, but any kind of explanation stuck in my throat, leaving us staring at each other for a few long moments.

His mouth turned grim, and he suddenly demanded, "What do you see in him?"

There was curiosity in the clipped tone, and it threw me off, an inelegant grunt popping from my throat in my surprise.

"That prick, the fucking ponce. What do you _see_ in him?" he repeated, face and voice hardening as his eyes turned dark. "…He's _Malfoy_ for fuck's sake, the fucking ferret boy! The bloody bastard, cold and malicious and general, all-around, stuck up _arse_. Don't you _ever _think of Harry?"

His voice rose throughout the tirade, my blood boiling at the increasingly accusatory tones, my magic beginning to rise up, a tingling spill that coursed against my skin and clothing.

"Ron, what's _wrong_ with you?" Hermione reprimanded sharply, now standing in her own doorway, knuckles white where her hand gripped the doorframe.

"Seriously, 'Mione, the wanker just pisses about, don't give a flying fuck about other people's feelings…it's no wonder he's in love with that prick. Malfoy's an arse, and I'd personally curse him _dead_ at the slightest chance!"

Color drained from my vision, the world becoming various blacks and grays, my sight narrowing down in a tunnel of anger, centered upon one specific person.

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up."

My voice came out deep and menacing, as if it had to travel up from my toes, and some internal echo of the statement spewed from a protesting portion of my awareness, telling me to stop before someone got hurt. I should have listened.

"Draco is my _friend_."

Ron's eyes were wide and afraid, pupils contracting with fear, and since when have I been close enough to see the change? Pressure on my forearms, fingers scrabbling and gripping them tight as someone attempted to loosen my death grip on Ron's shirt. There was also a pulling from my back, pulling me away from where I had Ron pinned against the wall, my knuckles applying brutal pressure against his shoulders.

An anxious voice cut through my hazed mind, my name yelled as someone's hand forcibly yanked against my left shoulder, breaking my grip and my line of sight. Still filled with bloodlust, I jerked towards Harry with the intention of hurting him, but the sight of his astonished eyes behind skewed glasses only caused a scalding, hot tear to slide down the side of my face.

I glanced back at Ron, clearing eyes finally taking in the entirety of his cringing and wincing form, and my fists unclenched. I backed away from the entire scene, my gray gaze back on Harry, seeing him shake his head but unable to listen to his unspoken plea not to go.

I swallowed, hot acid etched in the back of my throat, but my attention was drawn down to my tense hand. It was twitching, my pinky spasming beyond my control, and I clenched it shut once more, turning and walking back down the hallway until slipping into my room.

I left the lights off as I stood just inside, staring down at my increasingly twitchy hand, the spasms beginning to spread. Strengthening tremors started in my lower back and moved to my chest, every hair on my body standing erect as tiny bumps washed over my body.

I pulled the shirt from over my head, bunching up the material before dropping it down to the floor, my palm coming to my chest and resting just over my heart. My muscles twitched like the flank of that hippogriff in third year, bothered by flies during Hagrid's lessons. I could feel each spasm like a tiny heartbeat above my deeper one, could feel all my hair standing on end, the nipple beneath my palm hardening enough to ache.

It wasn't entirely painful, but decidedly disturbing as I began to shiver from my full-body tremors.

The door opened behind me with a faint twist of the knob, and I heard it shut completely once more. I knew who was there with me, and felt ashamed of how I'd acted, of losing control so completely. Harry's softly thudding footfalls were the only noise in the room as he approached, my face still turned to the darkness.

"He's not hurt…just a few bruises, he's had worse. There's…there's no need to cry, Nev," he muttered awkwardly, but I turned my face a bit so he could see I wasn't crying.

"Then why…." His eyes went to my jerking shoulders, but then he saw me more clearly, stepping closer and putting a hand out to gently touch my skin.

Almost immediately on contact, he jerked backwards, as if I'd bitten him. He stared at the tips of his fingers in wonder, rubbing them together, as if testing the viscosity of some liquid.

"It's your…_magic_," he whispered, awed.

"What?" My voice came out hoarse, and his eyes met mine.

"Your magic…you called it up, only, it doesn't know where else to go."

Even as he stated this, his hand again went to my skin, fingers splayed and his palm scalding me. His breath exhilarated upon contact, mouth parting as his other hand quickly joined the first.

He was almost reverent as he gasped, "Your magic, I can't help…it's _addictive_. All I want to do is touch it…."

He moved even closer, and I could do nothing but watch as he pressed his palms even more firmly against my chest and side. Wherever he touched, my spasms faded, as if he could sedate the magic's effect…or was drawing it out into himself.

Either way, it felt amazingly good, a relief.

Harry's glasses clattered to the wooden floor, and his now-bare face pressed against my skin as well, ear and cheek nestled at the base of my throat. The itching of my skin dimmed with his presence, and my breathing slowed as his accelerated.

I was unprepared for him to abruptly yank away, his fingers fumbling the open shirt from around his shoulders before working at his undershirt, quickly peeling it too, leaving him bare from the waist up. Before I could ask what he thought he was doing, he'd pressed his entire front against me--hot, so very hot.

Despite the fiery heat of his skin, it spread a soothing chill across my own. Every inch of flesh he could manage was plastered against mine, his arms curling around my back. He was an aloe balm to a burn, and my arms went around him as well, helping to pull him even closer.

Harry gave off a sharp sigh, and maneuvered my unresisting body over towards the bed, the mattress finally hitting against the backs of his thighs and just below his…I am _not_ thinking of Harry's arse at a time like…ok, _yes_, I am.

I didn't have long to think about it before he sat down and began scooting backwards, and as he wasn't about to relinquish his grip on me anytime soon, I was forced to follow. Our bodies wriggled until Harry ended up lying completely beneath me, panting from exertion--our legs were left sticking off the edge of the bed, both of us too tired to try crawling any further.

Whatever the situation was, it wasn't sexual in nature.

Looking down at his face, I realized my color vision had come back, because I could make out the green of his eyes. They were glazed over, as if he'd been dosed by a strong spell or potion. I don't know where the notion came from, but I took advantage of him by leaning down and capturing his parted lips with my own. He responded without thought, opening and demanding I do the same before he abruptly broke the heated kiss, breath harsh against mine.

"Can't breath, Nev…."

I realized I was too heavy for him, and flushed, rolling off to the side even though he still refused to let me go. So we lay that way instead, facing each other on our sides, with Harry's knee foisted over mine.

My spasms had completely tapered off by the time my eyes slid shut and I surrendered to sleep.

-

My awakening was gradual, a slow seepage back into consciousness. Just as slow came the memory of what had happened the night before, a small frown puckering my brow as my eyes slit open to take stock of the current situation.

Light was just barely filtering in through the window and dimly illuminated my bedroom, and Harry was no longer clinging to me, although our legs were still slightly entangled. He lay on his back, facing away from me with his arm slung lazily across his stomach--even as I watched, his fingers twitched against his skin as he slept. It was difficult not to stare, to take in the sight of twin, tan nubs, at the dusting of hair down his abdomen. At the faint scars he's gained over the years, faint but easy to spot if you were looking.

I've never had the opportunity to stare at anyone like this before, and especially not Harry--he's always been a bit shy about being naked, even around the dorms.

My aching body finally demanded I get up and release the kinks of sleep from my back and neck--I was careful not to disturb Harry as I slid from the bed as noiselessly as possible for me. Faint pops awarded my stretching efforts, especially as I twisted to the side with a final snap.

The wood floor was a bit chilly beneath my feet as I shuffled over to the closet, only to be brought short by my shirt from last night getting caught around my foot, nearly tripping me. A quick scanning glance around revealed the rest of Harry's outfit, as well as his glasses. Sighing inaudibly, I set about picking everything up and depositing the lot on the bed before continuing to the closet.

My reflection caught my attention, its greeting more rambunctious than usual before it took a moment to size me up, a predatory set to its face. And then, as if suddenly liking what it saw, it gave me a shyly playful grin and brief wink. And if that hadn't been disturbing enough in its own right, my reflected self now approached the limit of the mirror, palms pressed flat against the barrier as it attempted to peer around me.

I turned to see what it was looking at, but only saw Harry. He was still asleep and now facing this direction, and I was puzzled as to what my reflection could be so excited over. When I turned back, I was met with its wide grin, glowing approval for the type of relationship it seems to have assumed existed between Harry and myself.

Even my reflection thinks I'm dating him.

"Shut _up_, you!"

The smile faltered, but didn't answer me back. The mirrors at Gran's were always too vocal in their opinions, but I've yet to meet one that talked here.

"Nrngh."

I turned back to the bed at the sleepy mumble, Harry rubbing at an eye before propping himself up on his elbows. He was disorientated and bleary as he blinked at the window, hair flat on one side of his head before knowing fingers ran through and made it spring back to life. He sat up a bit more, propped up by one palm as he lazily scratched his abdomen, fingers stroking against the indention of his navel. Afterwards, he rubbed fingers across eyes, clearing them of moisture, before ending the whole routine with a silent yawn and brief sniff.

He finally looked around and spotted me watching him, but as he hadn't yet put his glasses back on, he couldn't see much. I saw his eyebrows pull together and knew he was probably trying to recall what'd happened last night, especially when he looked down and touched his bare chest.

My cheeks burning, I turned back towards the closet, soundlessly pulling out a clean shirt and slipping it over my head before turning around. His glasses were now perched on his nose, and he stared at me while holding his shirts in his lap. The silence was comfortable, and I knew he didn't regret or blame me for what had happened last night at all.

We stared for several minutes before he finally slid from bed and pulled the open shirt on over his shoulders and back, bunching the undershirt into his fist. Another hand swiped through his unruly hair once more as he walked towards the door, pausing as his fingers closed around the handle.

We shared one more long glance, and he offered a soft and friendly smile before slipping out the door.

When I finally turned back to the closet door, I was met with the sight of my dejected reflection, puzzled by its accusing glare before it proceeded to pout. I rolled my eyes and continued changing for the day, heading for the door before remembering I'd left my wand by the bed and mumbling a curse as I went to pick it up.

Harry's door was still shut when I passed by, so I continued on to the kitchen.

Breakfast was a solemn affair, none of the usual chatter to break the tense silence but for the clinks of silverware against dishes. It was easy now to see the bruises encircling my forearms, forever just past the corner of my eye and reminding me why they were there.

It was easy to see how everyone else was hyperaware of their presence, as well.

I didn't notice I was blankly staring at Ron until complete silence fell down around my ears, alerting me to the fact that everyone else had stopped eating as well. Ron stared holes into his plate, ears and neck red with unease. I jerked my gaze away with a flush, managing a soft stammer of apology while he made a indistinct noise, hand coming to worry at his mouth.

"Last night…I didn't mean…," I said, and he finally looked up, gaze holding mine a moment before drifting away again.

"I wasn't at my best, either," he ventured, and I couldn't stop the involuntary snort that escaped me. Great way to exacerbate the issue, Neville.

His eyes again met mine, now clearly flashing with anger.

"I mean it though, every word."

My eyes narrowed, not missing the sharp glare Hermione shot Ron, a quick admonition for him to shut up.

"I'd never forgive you or anyone for killing him," I stated, and he sneered.

"Why do you protect that git?!"

"Because he's my _friend_."

"Would you kill me for hurting him, then? Huh? For scarring his pretty face?" he challenged.

"I just might!"

"Oh yeah? And what would you do if Harry died, huh? If I let him die, what would you do?! Where's your bloody loyalty to him, huh, what would you _do_?"

He seemed pleased that the color drained from my face during his statement, but was shocked when I jumped to my feet and leaned forward, hissing into his face, "I would slit your throat while you slept."

I left then, knowing everyone was gaping at my back, but nobody attempted to stop me as I walked from the room, magic again seething across my skin.

Intent only on purging the negative emotions and magic from myself before I did something else to hurt myself or others, I never noticed where my feet carried me through the house. It was only as I finally paused in my rambling down a particularly dusty, unused hallway that I realized I was hopelessly lost.

I don't understand how I could _be_ so lost, but everything was seen through a haze, making every turn and corner seem unfamiliar.

Looking first one way, and then the other, I finally heaved a loudly frustrated sigh and slumped against the wall, letting my head thump back against the plaster. Dirt and flakes came off and floated down onto my head, causing me to cough and try to rub it free of my eyes, the dust instilling a harsh note in my throat. Still blind, I slid down the wall until I hit the floor, moisture streaking my face as I tried to cleanse my burning eyes. I sighed once more, an barely audible sigh of defeat, and my eyes closed, gritty and itching from the dust.

"I'm always so _lost_," I stated, voice harsh and rough in the silence around me.

I decided I'd sit there until things made sense again…if ever.

---

"See how it's starting to melt?"

I stood at Hermione's elbow, intently observing her motions as she stirred the creamy confection.

"When do we add one of these?" I asked, fingers ghosting against the various vials spread out on the counter, labels telling of the different flavors.

"Soon, I think. Which should we use first?" she asked, looking at me.

I studied the vials intently with a small frown, somberly contemplating each in turn.

I finally chose one, touching its stopper as I declared, "This one. Harry liked raspberry best, because he wouldn't give me one until I groveled for it."

She picked up the vial, studying it thoughtfully before saying, "I hope you're right. I just think he liked the mint ones better."

I shook my head, "He ate those first because they're his least favorite."

"I thought that meant he liked them best."

"No, he saves the best for last," I stated firmly, taking the spoon and stirring the mostly-melted chocolate.

"How do you know that?" she asked, a bit put out.

I shrugged; "He's done it that way for as long as I can remember."

"Good memory," she teased, and I pinked.

"You know I'm practically a squib, my memory is worse than my magic."

Her hand found my forearm, gentle warmth against my skin.

"You're not a bad wizard, Neville, and you're always improving. You held your own in the Department of Mysteries, didn't you, you and Harry?"

My blush deepened, though my gut twisted at the reminder of what happened.

"I guess so. Thanks, Hermione," I replied, embarrassed.

Her fingers gave a light squeeze to my arm before pulling away.

We ended up making quite a lot for Harry, shaped into various molds and flavorings by the time we ran out of chocolate.

I waited until we were cleaning up before asking the question that had bothered me earlier, "Why does Ron dislike me so much?"

Whenever there's any tension in the house, it's almost always between Ron and myself, though there are the other small quibbles now and again amongst the others. She froze for a second, staring at me before relaxing with a heavy sigh.

"He doesn't dislike you, Neville, he actually thinks you're quite keen on some things. He's just rather protective of his own."

"His own?" I pressed, and she bit her lip before responding.

"Ron is highly loyal to the people closest to him, doggedly so to those he considers his own. His family, his house, his friends. Before though, his 'friends' were just me and Harry. But now…now you're part of the circle too, because you're so close to Harry.

"You're our friend, Neville, don't get me wrong, but you've always connected more with Harry than the two of us, and it worries him. He doesn't know how loyal you are, not for sure. You're attached to Malfoy, the son of a known Deatheater, and he's probably already an agent for Lord Voldemort. So, he worries your loyalty could become jeopardized, because he knows you'll be pulled in two directions eventually."

I stewed on that a while, seeing the logic, and how painfully accurate it all was.

"And, well…." She bit her comment off, obviously changing her mind, but I moved closer.

"Well…?" I prompted, trying to catch her eye but failing.

"What is it?!" I pressed sharply, fingers finding the material of her sleeve and clenching up in agitation.

She huffed a bit before admitting, "He's sure you're going to hurt Harry, because sorry to say, but you don't have too great of a record in love and relationships, Neville."

Heat swept across my face and neck as I stammered, "Ridiculous! We're only friends!"

She made a soft noise in her throat; "Yes, you've said so before."

I stared at her incredulously, surprised to see some kind of melancholy on her face before she shifted away from me, my fingers falling from her sleeve.

"Anyway, that's just how Ron feels, and you know Ron…," her smile was strained, but I nodded and let her pretend the subject was closed.

I was stunned though--he thinks I have romantic intentions on Harry. Why does everyone always assume we're more than we are, than we have ever been? And even if…_even_ _if_…I loved Harry, I know the situation is impossible.

Even I'm not so optimistic that I'd naively believe one or both of us won't die before this is through.

Anything I have with Harry would be deep, something lasting, not the light courtships I had in school. If I had that kind of emotional relationship with him, if I had someone to love, to love me, after everything else in my life, I'd die if left alone again. And for Harry, if our roles were reversed? He's a wreck. My death would destroy him completely. Although I refuse to think I'm going to die, I won't pretend the possibility doesn't loom in the distance.

There's no reason for Ron to agonize about me and Harry, there's nothing to agonize over.

* * *

A/N: until next time.


	8. Thrash Unreal

so, it's been a few weeks since the last chapter. had a funeral, and school, and work, so yeah...it's been a few weeks. there's technically an interlude included in this chapter, so if it seems to not make sense as to the flow, that would be it.

i don't think i replied to any reviews last chapter. forgive me guys. i did read them all.

_friday, april 9, 2010. 12:34 pm._

* * *

_Although I refuse to think I'm going to die, I won't pretend the possibility doesn't loom in the distance. There's no reason for Ron to agonize about me and Harry, there's nothing to agonize over._

_-- -- -- (chapter begins)_

I almost always wake up whenever someone tries to surreptitiously sneak around me, and so, for the third day in a row, I woke as Harry tried to sneak out of my bed. The first time, I'd been so surprised to find him there that I hadn't thought of speaking until he'd already closed the door behind him with a faint '_snick_'.

That first morning, I'd lain there a long while, figuring that whatever reason Harry had for coming to me in the middle of the night, he'd desperately not wanted me to find him out. I never brought it up with him, hoping he'd shed some light on the subject by himself, but he continued acting as though it never happened. If I hadn't known better, I would have started doubting it myself, chalking it up to some bizarre half-awake-half-dreaming hallucination.

Except it kept happening, every morning I'd wake as Harry inconspicuously slid from the bed. I would feign sleep, unsure if he'd stop once he knew I knew he was there. Watching him as closely as I did, I began to notice he seemed more rested, as if he slept better in my bed, and I didn't want to embarrass him into stopping.

But, by the third day, my curiosity burned too much, and I found myself casually asking him, "How have you been sleeping lately, Harry?"

He hedged the question, which is normal should the question be a personal one; "Not so bad, I suppose."

"No more nightmares?"

I looked at him, just the right amount of concern coloring my voice, and he offered an absent smile.

"Not recently."

I nodded; "That's great."

But even as I prepared to back off, Harry's eyes settled on me, seeming to pierce right through with how he _saw_ me with a startling intensity; "And you, Nev? How have you been dreaming?"

Taken back, I replied, "Nothing I can remember come morning."

That intense gaze continued, as if he searched for some gem of untruth to my statement.

"You'd tell me, wouldn't you? If your dreams were…troubled?" he finally pressed, and I blinked but nodded.

He stared a moment more before finally turning his gaze away, posture becoming more relaxed.

"Ron and Hermione say they've had an increase in…poor dreams. I just wondered if you'd been experiencing anything of the sort as well," he explained mildly, but I knew there was something else he wasn't saying.

"If I have, I don't remember come morning, so I can't say either way," I admitted, and he nodded in understanding. He'd shifted the conversation, but I'd still seen some kernel of unease behind his glasses, his glances my direction more like deep probes for information than usual.

-

So, when he woke me for the fourth morning, feeling the mattress dip and shift as he tried to stealthily slide out of bed, I licked my lips and murmured, "Harry."

He halted, breath still after an initial sharp intake. My back faced him, and I could feel his heavy stare against my spine, as if trying to figure out if I'd only been talking in my sleep.

"You keep doing this…why?" I asked, and he gave a deep sigh before settling back into place on the bed.

"You knew," he stated flatly.

"Since Tuesday."

"Since the beginning, then."

I didn't respond to that, and he finally demanded, "Why didn't you say anything, if you knew?"

"Why didn't you?" I asked instead, and he snorted with exasperation.

"I asked you first," he argued childishly, and I inaudibly sighed.

"I don't know, Harry, I just…thought I'd wait it out, see if you said anything first, but you never did. So I'm asking now."

I felt his heavy sigh through the mattress; "That first time, I woke up after a nightmare…couldn't be alone, couldn't go back to sleep."

I'd first suspected as much, but asked, "But why my room? Why not with Hermione or Ron, they're closest. My room is furthest from yours."

There was a pregnant pause before he softly admitted, "Because you make me feel safe when I'm asleep. I only remember hazy pieces of that time, when it was like drowning, but I remember you most of all, how you made things bearable, and then…the dreams were gone. You're the only person who's ever been able to do that for me."

I let that sink in, trying to digest the implications of trust he'd made with that statement.

When he spoke again, I jerked in surprise; "You cry in your sleep."

I had to literally bit back a harsh cry of denial that had leapt into my throat, my shoulders bunching up defensively.

"Do not."

My voice came out numb, and he snorted.

"Bullshit. I've _seen_ you."

He let that hang there in the silence, and I finally turned over and looked at him. He was sprawled on his back and staring up at the ceiling, hair hanging into his eyes and glasses still lying on the bedside table. At my movement, his face turned towards mine, his expression of troubled worry unmasked this time.

"I do?" I asked faintly, and he gave a short nod of affirmation.

"That's why I keep coming back, because…I don't want you having nightmares. You've only cried twice though, that first night, and then again last night. …Why do you cry, Nev?"

I was shaken by the blunt truth on his face, disturbed by the possibility.

"Do I say anything?"

He shifted, rolling onto his side to face me, his hand coming up and sliding beneath the pillow, concern still plain on his face.

"No, you don't make any noise at all, though you tremble all over."

My eyes closed, hands flexing into compulsive fists as I fought back murky emotions.

"Neville…I remember waking up once in our second or third year, and you were crying like that even then. I always thought you were awake, so hadn't said anything about it, because we weren't really that close back then. But…I always remembered."

Pain laced through my lower gut and I brought a hand up to my eyes, trying to subvert the familiar stinging sensation that comes before tears.

"I thought I was over that, Gran said I didn't do it anymore," I whispered faintly, and there was the hesitant heat of Harry's palm touching my shoulder in comfort.

"What do you mean?"

"…Used to get night terrors. …Bad as yours are now, every night was terror. Gran used to hold me until I'd fall asleep, would be there when I woke up screaming bloody murder. The nightmares faded, but she said I cried in my sleep until I was maybe nine or ten. She said it went away after I found out I really had magic, that I wasn't a squib. I never knew it when I cried, she'd tell me in the morning.

"The night after I received my Hogwarts letter, though…it happened again. I can still remember waking up screaming, my throat raw, and I was in my closet, Gran trying to bring me out but I couldn't stop screaming…."

My voice broke as the memory of that terror washed down over me, bringing back the feeling of worthless helplessness I'd felt when I'd finally calmed enough to let Gran drag me out. Harry's arms pulled me in close to him, letting me bury my face against his shirt as I fought down remembered hysteria.

"I cry when I'm scared, Harry," I choked out, my hands bunching up in the material before them, eyes scrunched shut as he tightened his hold on me.

"What are you scared of?"

"Killing…going insane…. Dying," I whispered brokenly, and felt the hitch in his breath, his arms tightening around me.

"I'm scared of those too," he admitted, and I felt myself trembling, but we didn't move for a very long time, drawing comfort from the other's presence.

-- -- -- -- -- --

"You're not trying to nip off alone, are you?"

Harry's sharp demand came from my doorway. I spared an absent shrug, continuing to search through my things for my collection of photographs. In particular, the ones I wanted to talk about with my parents. There was one I always liked most, where Dad's holding me and smiling so wide, you'd think his jaw would depart from his face.

We always look so happy in those photos…they always look so happy. And sane.

"I'm going with you," he announced, and I finally turned to look at him.

"You've Order business to attend to, you know that," I reprimanded, and he frowned.

"Then so do you."

"Please, I'm not the important one, and nothing will stop me from seeing my parents today. It's tradition."

His frown deepened, and he abruptly stormed from the room, leaving me to heavily sigh. He's gotten so _moody_ lately…not that I blame him, really, we're all pretty moody and tense these days.

Signing that contract this morning legally binding us together helped Harry some, but it hadn't taken long before his ridiculously happy grin faded back to his heightened agitation once Order members started to arrive. It frustrates me that his happiness has become so short-lived, that his life is so pressured that every smile is gone before it starts.

He's quickly approaching that frayed mentality he had in school, when the pressure was getting to be more than he could bear.

After some searching, I managed to dig out my photos, unwrapping the bundle from the threadbare, light blue cloth I store them in. The cloth is all I have left of my infant blanket, the only remaining gift I still have from my parents. Running a fingertip across the surface of moving snapshots, I stared at my parent's happy faces--I even have a few from their wedding. Gran has many more photos, but these few have always been my favorites. I risked stealing them from her albums when I was much younger, maybe just before my second year at Hogwarts.

When she discovered them just before I was to restart terms, she'd gone so very still that I'd been afraid she'd beat me. Only, when she'd finally looked at me, her expressionless face held soft eyes, and she'd handed the photos back to me, her fingers coming up to rest on the crown of my head before she left my room without saying anything.

I used to have cousins around when I was younger, but they were always so much older than I was and we were never all that close. Most of them were aware of my parents, and conversation was always thin.

Growing up, it was usually Gran and me--she was the constant in my life, the only one I ever had.

Sighing, I wrapped the photos back up for safekeeping, storing them in a pocket as I stood from my kneeled position on the wood floor. My cloak lay across the bed, and I grabbed it, pausing when the brown paper sack containing Harry's chocolates revealed itself to have been hiding beneath the robe. It was as good a time as any to give it to him.

Unless he's too angry to accept it, of course.

I shrugged the cloak onto my shoulders and ran a hand through my increasingly shaggy hair, absently thinking to have it shortened whenever I had the chance, grabbing the paper sack after I patted my pocket for my wand.

Harry's room was empty as I passed, so I continued downstairs, where various members of the Order milled about. I cautiously glanced into a few of the occupied rooms, searching for Harry amongst the others but not seeing his distinctive crop of unruly hair.

"Thought you were leaving."

The voice behind me was quietly bitter, and I flushed with some irritation before forcing myself to swallow it down again.

"Was just looking for you, actually," I stated, turning to see his mouth part in surprise, confusion bleeding across his face.

"Looking for me?"

Without offering an explanation, I handed the sack over, watching as he opened and peeked inside, his face snapping back up once he realized what it was.

"Chocolates?"

I made a noise of affirmation, then, "That muggle sort you like so much, got Hermione to help me make them a few days ago."

"You…you _made_ them?!" he asked in disbelief, eyes widening as his fingers crumpled the bag while reaching in, pulling out two or three and staring at them in wonder.

I moved closer, pointing, "Mhm. Those there are the raspberry sort, they're darkest. I remembered those were your favori--"

He abruptly rushed me after dropping the handful back into the sack, a tight squeeze coming around my neck before he pressed eagerly excited lips to mine. He pulled back just slightly, a small laugh spilling from his mouth before his lips pressed against mine once more.

The first kiss had been entirely innocent and friendly, but the second one…it changed, just as they always had before.

I _knew_ it was different, that it'd changed, but I fell into it anyway, my arms coming up to wrap around him as the kiss deepened even further. I felt the hand holding the sack press against the small of my back, felt his grip slip and then fail, the bag on the floor and his palm flat against my back. His glasses were a hindrance, but I ignored them as I allowed this to happen, as I allowed him to kiss me this way.

"Harry, you still want me to…oh…."

The way Ron's voice fell flat on the _oh_ reminded me that I was snogging Harry Potter in full view of anyone who happened to come out into the hall.

Even still, Harry pulled away first, absently wiping the back of his hand against his mouth as his eyes lit upon his best friend--I was relieved to see his mood had brightened considerably, especially once he'd looked around our feet and scooped the sack back up.

"Look what Nev made me! Muggle chocolates, 'e did!"

Harry beamed with excitement at Ron, who flashed a slightly wan smile back at him.

"Smile, Harry!"

A bright flash immediately followed Hermione's called warning, and with it came a pungent burst of powder, announcing that she'd taken his picture.

He hurried over, babbling out, "You helped Nev make me chocolates!"

She flushed with pride, even as she was treated to as tight an embrace as mine…minus the kissing, of course.

His bounce and vigor astounded me, that simply giving him something like chocolates could do so much. And that kiss. A very good kiss. A…kiss that shouldn't have ever happened, but did.

Hermione glanced up at me once she was released, and her eyes quickly noted how I was dressed for traveling.

"Where you headed, all trussied up?" she teased, and Harry's mood dimmed.

"Visiting my parents. Tradition, you see," I hedged, and her face softened.

"Ron's going with you," Harry announced, and the person in question shifted his weight a bit uneasily, but didn't appear surprised.

"Harry, really…," I began, but his expression firmed, brooking no argument as he issued a mandate.

"If you're going, then so is he." I stared at him, willing him to back down, but those green eyes were made of steel, and I finally looked away with a sigh.

"Fine," I conceded, knowing he was smiling now because he'd won. Bastard.

-

Thus, I had a sullenly silent escort as I made my way to the nondescript medical establishment. Neither of us spoke as we entered, and I nodded a hello to the familiar witch at the reception desk.

I didn't ask for directions, didn't have to…I could make my way up to the ward with my eyes closed, if I had to.

I kept my eyes to myself as we passed people in for all sorts of magical maladies--I'm used to seeing such things as a woman with ink pouring from her lips and nose in a torrent rush, or a man whose eyes were constantly trying to slip from their sockets and skate about his face on their own.

Coming here is almost like coming home, especially once we found ourselves outside a familiar pair of double ward doors. My parents have lived here for as long as I can remember, this is their home. As always, I had to close my eyes and breathe deeply to still my jumping stomach.

Then, turning to Ron, I stated firmly, "You've seen my parents before, so you know what they're like. You don't have to come in, but if you do…I won't have you embarrassing me, understand?"

His eyes found mine, briefly unsettled before they flickered towards the door, his nod abrupt and I copied the motion, my nerves still jangling about. And then I pushed through the doors.

It's always been hard to see they have no idea who I am, but the routine of introducing myself to my own parents has become an automatic one. They used to be a lot more active when I was younger, but through the years, they've come to spend more time in bed, each lying there in their own private little worlds. Mum is usually the more active of the two--Gran says she was always on the go when she was normal, a perpetual well of energy--but she was sound asleep when I arrived. Dad lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling, blinking and breathing, and little else.

The ward was quiet, once I tuned out the man in the other corner who kept murbling something that sounded soothingly like a familiar lullaby. I moved over to the side of Dad's bed, sitting down on the edge and taking his lax hand into mine, my voice low and smooth as I talked to him.

"It's Neville again, Dad, your son. I know you probably don't recognize me…you never do…but, I still love you, and Mum. Love you two more than anything else, and…I guess part of me thinks you can understand, that some part of you would want to know. …Maybe there's even still a part of you, lost deep down, that still loves me, for being your son."

There wasn't a visible reaction to my voice, although I imagined that I might have felt the tiniest hint of a squeeze go through his hand. It might have been there…maybe.

I sat there for a moment or two in silent contemplation, watching him blink, and breathe, before I abruptly brightened.

"Oi, look what I've brought again today."

I dug through the small bundle pulled from my pocket, finding the photo from before.

"See? It's you, Dad, you were holding me. See how happy we were? We were all so happy, because you and Mum had me after trying so long. Remember? …I was your miracle--Gran told me once you used to call me that…your little miracle…." I trailed off again, ghosting fingertips across the photo's surface, again lost in my own thoughts.

After a while, I moved to sit with my mum, talking to her sleeping face as though she were really listening. I've gotten so good at pretending, sometimes I get to where I believe it myself.

After a while, I lapsed into silence, a strange melancholy roiling over me.

"You remember that boy, Mum? That one I knew you'd caution me against?"

My fingers became ragged as I picked at the skin around my cuticles, my skin bleeding in some places as my voice grew soft.

"You were right about him, Mum. I should have listened to you, but his lies were honey--such sweet words designed for just one thing. You were right…he didn't stay after he got it."

My lips twisted into an acidly bitter smirk; "Men are barstids, Mum."

I was startled from my monologue by a hand touching my shoulder, coming to with a jerk and looking up into the strangely sympathetic eyes of Ron. I stared at him for a moment before realizing he was reacting to what I'd said, and flushed a bright pink. His long fingers tightened just slightly, oddly comforting, before pulling away as he retreated to where he'd been standing.

I didn't visit with my parents much longer afterwards, too mortified by the confession he'd witnessed. I've only talked about Garrett with two people--Draco, and Mum.

And I suppose she doesn't really count.

We were as quiet leaving the ward as we were arriving, Ron following along in silence before he abruptly asked, "Was it Derek?"

I was so startled by the question that I paused, causing him to continue on for a few steps before turning back, still unable to look me in the eye.

"What about him?" I faltered, falling back into step with him.

He ran a hand across the back of his neck; "That fellow you talked about. The liar."

Fire spread down my cheeks as I gave a quick negating shake of my head. "No, but it's almost the reason why he left me."

"What? What do you mean by that? …Neville?!"

When I didn't initially respond, he tugged on my sleeve and forced me to stop walking. When I looked him in the eye, I saw that he was somewhat concerned, and that touched me enough that I was honest in my reply.

"He didn't want to wait until I could let someone else go that far with me, didn't want to wait until I didn't panic anymore."

His fingers slipped away as realization passed over his face, and I flinched away from that expression, a stinging cold settling in my gut. Without doing more than glancing to see if he'd follow, I apparated back home.

-

Walking through the front door, I didn't even notice the beaming grin Harry directed at the two of us, didn't notice it dim when he saw Ron give a barely perceptible shake of his head. And the grin disappeared completely as I silently trudged down the hall, passing him without a word, and heading upstairs.

I didn't see the quizzical look Harry shot his best friend, or the oblique shrugging reply, both of them following the progress of my footsteps with their eyes.

As soon as I walked into my bedroom, my hand absently raised the lights with my wand, heading for my bed as I shrugged the cloak from my shoulders again. Preoccupied, it wasn't until I was about a foot from the bed that I realized I wasn't alone, that there was…something…already there.

My wand was cocked before I could think, causing me to feel foolish when I suddenly realized what it was. I gave an unsteady laugh as my hand lost its strength, my unoccupied hand coming up to scrape the hair back from my face.

Glassy, black eyes caught my own, glittering with curiosity as a flat nose moved in an endearing maneuver, a soft grunt escaping its chest to rend the silence.

"…A pig," I breathed, voice calm with my relief.

"A hog, actually. He's yours."

I startled, jerking around and pointing my wand at the door, only to give a sheepish little smile when Harry's eyebrow raised at my skittishness. I turned back to the animal on my bed, only half-hearing Harry push the door shut behind him, a dim little click sounding in the quiet.

"My hog?" I questioned, tone dubious.

"Yes, yours."

My eyes flicked back towards him, taking in his pleased countenance.

"From…you?" I guessed, and he smiled.

I nodded slightly before asking, "…Why?"

That threw him, his lips pursing slightly before he shrugged, replying, "You seemed as though you needed another pet after losing Trevor."

"He's huge, and I'll lose him," I joked grimly, but flutters of excitement squirmed through me at the thought of _my_ pet. Harry shook his head with a mystic smile, pulling a sturdy length of twine from around his wrist, approaching me and attaching it to my left wrist in a simple knot.

"This," his fingers feathered over my skin as well as the twine," is keyed into _this_."

He moved towards the bed, finger reaching out and gently tugging against an identical length of twine knotted and firmly secured around the animal's neck.

"This is to keep you from losing him, or forgetting his necessities. A 'nudge' will push in your mind, so you can't forget. And it won't come off until you spell it to."

My fingers fiddled with the simple adornment on my wrist, voice warm with pleasure as I teased, "Thought of everything, haven't you?"

He shrugged, watching as I crawled onto the bed and flopped down, my face splitting into a grin when the animal looked over and automatically curled up along my flank. He wasn't big, the size of medium-sized dog, and my hand found the animal's hide, running over the coarse hairs, the pleasant smell of cleanliness floating up to my nose.

I turned my grin to Harry, which was duly returned as he joined me on the bed, laying on the opposite side of the hog so he could pet him as well.

"What are you going to name him?" he asked, curious.

"Him, eh?"

He nodded, and I thought about names a moment, fingernails lightly scratching the hog's spine and receiving low grunts of appreciation for my trouble.

"Bill."

Harry's eyebrows rose with surprise; "Bill?"

I nodded, already pairing the name to the animal in my mind, and was pleased with the seeming fit. Harry's lips formed the name, testing it in his own way, before he gave a low laugh.

"You know, Bill Weasley was my first male crush," he admitted, amused when I let out a little choking snort.

"Ron's brother?!" I asked, and he gave a sheepish nod.

"Yeah. It was the long hair and fang earring. …Married to Fleur now, though."

"The half-veela from fourth year, that one?" He nodded, and I made a small noise in my throat.

Then, flashing a teasing grin at Harry, "Please tell me he's _cuter_ than Ron, at least."

This earned a freer laugh from my friend, despite the light pinking rising up on his cheeks. "Much cuter, yes. …Well, not that Ron's not, in his own _way_, you know…but he's my best mate. There's a big difference."

"You're the best mate I ever had," I told him, even while thinking that the difference about Ron being Harry's best mate didn't appear to apply as much to myself, because I would have to admit I'd…fall in love with someone who looked like Harry. Easy.

Harry, though, was stunned by my statement, slow to register before a broad grin spread across his face, eyes flashing. I returned his smile, curling up on my side around Bill, spooning his warm body and allowing him to burrow closer to my chest. This put my face level with Harry's shoulder, and he situated some, putting space between us so we could comfortably look each other in the face.

Something seemed to pass behind his eyes, hesitation and something else, and I visually asked for clarification, causing him to say quietly, "Nev, I just--"

He was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, blatant relief on his face as he popped upright and pointed his wand at the door, the lock clicking once more.

"Door's open!"

Hermione practically threw open the door, worry etched onto her face as she rapidly approached the bed and placed a roll of parchment into my fingers.

"I'm so sorry, Neville, the owl refused to let me take it without reading it," she fretted, but I was sitting up and unrolling the roll, tuning out everything else at the words written upon the parchment.

The last thing I heard after the world began to swim was Harry's worried voice calling my name, but then my vision went black.

-

Even though it hadn't taken them long to bring me out of my faint, I was too late in answering the grim summons, too late to give my last respects to my Gran. As soon as I'd apparated to the house, I'd known it was too late, the entire atmosphere heavy with death, and it was too late to tell her I loved her. She hadn't sent for me until things were dire, hadn't even informed me of her illness, and for this I was filled with a watery, helpless rage.

I can't even begin to know her reasoning for keeping me in the dark until too late, and can only hope she thought it for the best.

I held vigil at her bedside that first night, one candle burning in the darkness, my breath the only sound in the silent room. I would give anything to have her back again, would give myself if I had to. …I was never prepared for this. She had always been so firm and formidable to me, I somehow always believed she'd outlast me for years and years.

How difficult it must have been for her, having lost her son and daughter-in-law in the war, and then to see me going in the same direction, lucky to live to see twenty.

The household ran just as smoothly after her death as it had during her life, her instructions followed to the word and letter. My only requirement was to grieve my loss as a good grandson, which I was able to provide in spades.

The main house was going to my elder uncle, a man I've never known particularly well, but my inheritance was my parent's humble estate out in the British countryside, the home in which I was born. We used to go there when I was very young, but never very often. The property was still under the care of a groundskeeper who would continue his duties until I, if I ever do, decide to make it my permanent home.

Maybe…maybe if I survive this war, that's exactly what I'll end up doing.

I've _known _I'm an orphan practically all my life, but this was the first time I've ever felt so _alone_ in the world. I never felt the loss of my parents, but this…this crippled me.

* * *

a/n: until next time, you guys.


	9. Unstable

it's been just about a week since the last update, so here is the next. i am really falling down on answering reviews. so sorry, guys.

stuff happens this chapter. and awkward scene shift. that happens too.

_saturday, 17 april, 2010. 3:14 am._

* * *

_The last thing I heard after the world began to swim was Harry's worried voice calling my name, but then my vision went black._

_-- -- -- (chapter begins)_

Even though it hadn't taken them long to bring me out of my faint, I was too late in answering the grim summons, too late to give my last respects to my Gran. As soon as I'd apparated to the house, I'd known it was too late, the entire atmosphere heavy with death, and it was too late to tell her I loved her.

She hadn't sent for me until things were dire, hadn't even informed me of her illness, and for this I was filled with a watery, helpless rage. I can't even begin to know her reasoning for keeping me in the dark until too late, and can only hope she thought it for the best.

I held vigil at her bedside that first night, one candle burning in the darkness, my breath the only sound in the silent room. I would give anything to have her back again, would give myself if I had to.

…I was never prepared for this.

She had always been so firm and formidable to me, I somehow always believed she'd outlast me for years and years. How difficult it must have been for her, having lost her son and daughter-in-law in the war, and then to see me going in the same direction, lucky to live to see twenty.

-

The household ran just as smoothly after her death as it had during her life, her instructions followed to the word and letter. My only requirement was to grieve my loss as a good grandson, which I was able to provide in spades.

The main house was going to my elder uncle, a man I've never known particularly well, but my inheritance was my parent's humble estate out in the British countryside, the home in which I was born. We used to go there when I was very young, but never very often. The property was still under the care of a groundskeeper who would continue his duties until I, if I ever do, decide to make it my permanent home.

Maybe…maybe if I survive this war, that's exactly what I'll end up doing.

I've _known _I'm an orphan practically all my life, but this was the first time I've ever felt so _alone_ in the world. I never felt the loss of my parents, but this…this crippled me.

-

The words spoken at the service washed over me in tinny waves of static sound, solid unreality gripping me except for the comforting knowledge of the man who'd given me constant comfort throughout. Harry hadn't left my side since he arrived after that first night--Ron and Hermione came the day of the funeral, having had to stay behind for Order business.

I was in shock, I knew that, but I remained thus even once back at headquarters, quarantined in my room and not speaking to anyone.

My days were spent in silence.

-

"Nev, you can't stay here in the dark--don't retreat so far I can't pull you back."

Harry's voice in my ear, his arms wrapping across my chest as warm tears of desperation hit the back of my neck, the darkness of the room shrouding his pain.

"She's gone…."

I felt like a hole opened in my chest every time I said it out loud, a fog spreading in my head.

"But I'm here, Nev, please…please come back."

Hearing his voice break sent a shiver down my body, ice crackling along my skin.

"M'cold, Harry."

He sniffed, pulling away from my back and grabbing my arm, pulling me over to the bed, where I curled up on top of the covers and stared at him in the dim light. When I again started to shiver, he leaned over and tried to pull the duvet from beneath my body, but I grabbed hold of his shirt instead.

His eyes widened as I pulled him down and touched our mouths together, and he tried to pull back, but I followed, my kiss hungry and desperate. After a moment of rigidity, he gradually began to return my kiss, allowing me to draw him down onto the bed as I sought the kind of peace he could offer me, sought what I knew he wouldn't deny should I ask for it.

"So warm…."

I felt the tremble in his body as he lowered himself over me, as he began to work at my clothing, my softly moaned words seeming to brush up against his skin.

When I again pulled his mouth to mine, his glasses were something of a hindrance, so I plucked them from his face, carelessly tossing them off to the side, the faint crackling clatter not even registering as I forcibly pulled him back to me.

My hand snaked up beneath his jumper, finding flushed skin and causing him to give a faint groan against my tongue and lips.

Our clothing didn't disappear completely, just enough that when our naked groins first came into contact, I clung to him and arched, a strangled moan escaped my choked throat. He was gasping, full breaths of air hitting against my face as we moved, arms and legs entwined as we rode out our savage quest for fulfillment, for an end to this pleasurably painful act.

The closer to that end I came, the more I wanted from him, the more he was able to give.

And after that final crash following mutual orgasm came my wracking sobs, wrenching as I sobbed out all my overwhelming pain and grief. Harry again enveloped me in his embrace, fierce from brotherhood rather than the rough, carnal embrace from just moments before.

I cried, and he let me.

After I'd finally hiccupped myself out of tears, exhaustion stole over me in sly installments, and there was a point where I could have sworn I felt the ghost of his lips forming words against my damp cheek, against my parted lips. But sleep consumed me before I could ask him to repeat it.

---

Alone in dim light, I heard his footsteps before his voice, relieved as he breathed, "Merlin, Nev…."

Harry hastened into the tiny, darkened tearoom and gingerly took a seat next to me. The windows in the room were in the wrong positioning for light at this time of day, and thus turned a normally cheerful endeavor into a solemn affair. Perhaps that had been why he had difficulty finding me, because nobody comes into this room until later, when the light is more optimum. Which was all the more reason I was sitting there on the small davenport, a lukewarm cup of tea held within my mostly-slack fingers.

After some time of silence between us, Harry began to fidget, pulling off his glasses and twirling them around a bit, fingers frequently jumping to the right lens.

"I…well, they were broken, right? And you fixed them."

His tone was awkward, as if reluctant to bring up anything that had to do with the night before. Those glasses--I could still remember tossing them aside, that cracking sound declaring them broken. It'd taken me ages fixing them after I woke amongst the tangled covers and sprawled limbs of my friend.

I'd lain there for a long while, listening to his soft snoring and remembering everything I'd asked him to do. Such selfish reasons for our shared intimacy.

Then I'd gently eased out of bed and redressed, a sliver of broken glass lens catching in the arch of my bare foot, causing me to crouch down and pick up the empty frames. After an avid search for all the pieces and shards of glass, I'd concentrated on putting them back together again without disturbing Harry as I did so. The last thing I'd wanted was a confrontation in such a setting--I'd needed time to sort my muddled thoughts about my grandmother's death, my grief, and…Harry's selfless kindness. So, I'd made my way downstairs and to this room, sorting myself out in the silence.

Now Harry had found me, but he still didn't know how to act, what to say around me.

I took my time swirling around the remaining slip of liquid left in my teacup, voice soft as I said, "It was selfish of me, Harry, last night, and I just hope…it doesn't change anything between us. Because I don't think I can handle anything else right now."

He was quick to reply with obvious relief, "Yes, that's best."

Sighing now, his head descended onto my shoulder, his body growing lax, and I blinked as I stared down at the top of his head before a slip of a grin appeared on my face--he'd fallen back asleep. Really, all the stress wasn't good for him, and guilt settled along my bones like a comforting friend, knowing I'd asked so much of him.

But he was willing to give me what I needed, and for that…I would die for Harry.

--- --- ---

"Harry, you _do_ drool in yer sleep."

"I do not, you wanker, how dare you suggest I do!"

"Because you do!"

"_Not_!"

"You do, mate."

"I do _not_!"

I was distracted from my work by the pointlessly heated conversation, and finally declared, "Sorry to disappoint you, Harry, but you do drool. …You also snore."

I quirked my gaze up from my neatly penned notes, and all the little jotted subnotes in the margins of my notes upon notes upon even more notes--looking up in time to see Harry glancing helplessly between me and Ron, who was deviously smirking at his best mate.

"You bastards, always ganging up on me," Harry sulked, pulling an uncharitable pout as he commenced glaring at the two of us.

I had to grin at his churlish behavior, noting how he seems to become more childish the older he gets, but at least he still has the right. I again drowned out the distracting background factors as I immersed myself back into my studies and notes on the slightly trembling leaves of the strange hybrid plant confiscated some days ago as contraband in a raid.

Nobody was sure of its exact properties, but from the few I'd managed to pinpoint and identify, I was getting closer to classifying it as a passive threat, basically harmless unless specifically provoked. I use the term 'basically harmless' loosely, because although the barbs look deadly poisonous, they don't inject a lethal poison into the skin…although they still draw blood fairly easily.

As evidenced by the bandages covering four of my left-hand fingers, a row of them across my knuckles.

Well, I could only hope it wasn't a lethal poison injected into me, as I wasn't yet dead, but my hand _had _gone a tingling numb--I could only hope for the best. Of course, it was slightly worrisome that the numbness was so slow to wear off, considering it'd been over four hours, but my condition hasn't worsened in the meantime. In fact, it might even have gotten better. Maybe.

Frowning in thought, I gave the plant another tiny prod, gaining the predictable reaction of the barbs swiping at the pointer with the intent of dislodging more skin. But, monsieur plant, I am not so dense as to touch you twice with my bare hand.

However, the action did put me in mind of a plant I'd read about before, and I dragged open a severely musty book, flipping through the pages while muttering abstractions and Latin plant names beneath my breath.

"Nev…."

A bandaged finger skimmed down the page, my frown darkening as the information I recalled seeing before appeared to be elsewhere in the book.

"_Neville_!"

I jerked in surprise, mouth falling open in dim stupidity as I looked up to see a mildly irritated, yet still amused, Harry.

"What?" I demanded with some exasperation after I'd recovered myself, only to have Order members rush through the kitchen with great agitation. Oh.

Harry's eyes rolled, and he automatically reached out for one of my hands with the intention of tugging me from my seat, but I hissed as he grabbed a hold on the wrong one.

"Oh, ha, not numb anymore, that's for sure. Bloody _hell_, that smarts," I snorted petulantly, shaking my fingers with a wince once he'd let go with a startled apology.

"What'd you do?" he asked, and I brainlessly explained how the plant had attacked me.

So, of course, he got that 'I'm gearing up to lecture you about taking caution with _unknown raid paraphernalia'_ expression all over his face, but before he could even get warmed up, we were both called off for an urgent Order meeting.

I knew something major was going down when I saw the frightened glint in the seasoned member's eyes, knew what it was the moment Harry's spine grew straight and his face became a mask, stone cold and without expression.

Been preparing for this moment since the beginning, but it doesn't mean my guts didn't turn to water in an instant.

-

Like a stupid ass, Harry tried to talk me into staying behind, resorting to threats of violence if I tried to come with him, and I ignored them all, stating that he couldn't command me to stay out of danger, not for anything in the world. He'd stared at me a long moment before pulling me into a crushing embrace, strong arms squeezing the breath out of me, but I let it happen.

I also wisely kept to myself how I felt the trembling going through his back, instead winding my arms around him and focusing on how I could keep him alive and safe by remaining so myself.

---

After an infinite number of people you send down, they cease to have names and faces, cease to be separate entities. I began to think of them as mere insects, like ants--housing a collective awareness, instead of being individuals.

After a while, they even began to look the same, the same person popping up and going down, an endless loop of death and carnage. The number of dead was blurred--people fell on both sides, dropping, and we always moved on.

Always moving, growing ever closer to our ultimate goal. Hallways, doors--tunnels and vaults. All looked the same, blending together until I couldn't have been certain where we'd been except for scorch marks and bodies left in our wake.

Eventually, we came against a tight knot of inexperienced Deatheaters, fighting until just a few were left. I don't know when I realized _he_ was part of the group, not sure when I stopped seeing him as an insect and once more the young man I'd spoken to before graduation.

Maybe it was when crazed, gray eyes flared upon mine that instantaneous recognition lit through me. At any rate, once I'd recognized him, I ceased firing curses and protection spells, my actions seeming to spark a reaction amongst the rest, activity tricking down on both sides.

His silver mask had long been abandoned, if he'd even worn it to be begin with. My gaze was drawn to a darkly crimson smudge across the side of his face, his hand having swiped at a crusting slash in his cheek, a chemical burn marring his eye from where he'd had a close brush with a curse. That immaculate hair of his was in complete disarray but still evidenced some semblance of order, especially as his hand absently raked up and pushed it out of his wide and warily cornered eyes.

He shielded those standing behind him with his own body, his stance tense as his arm pointed his wand at our group--an evident tremble gave away his exhaustion.

Even though he was clearly outnumbered and outmatched, he still attempted to protect those more inexperienced than himself, although I guessed he was the youngest of them there. It was this selfless shred of dignity and honor that had me stepping forward, slowly approaching my old friend as I would a vicious man-eating plant. His wand arm strengthened, rising up to level with my chest, but I still stepped forward until I was close enough for him to make out my face.

"L-L-Longbottom." His mouth slightly caught in trying to form my name, but I gave a nod of affirmation, my hands raised to show I had no means of attack.

Dimly, I wondered if I was testing my earlier theory on whether or not he'd be able to curse me, if he could do it with the ease he'd shown of cruelty before.

A pale tongue flicked out to wet his lips, voice stronger as he barked, "Stay back, all of you!"

I stilled, my hands still up and empty.

"You remember my promise, Draco? …No matter what…I still mean it," I stated lowly, and those gray eyes latched onto mine, boring deep into my very soul.

"I remember. …Bloody hell, how could I _forget_?"

He appeared torn, his wand lowering a fraction as emotions raged through his eyes. He was battling himself, that much was plain to see, but it was difficult for me to ascertain which option was winning.

The barest wisp of vulnerability bled into his eyes as he stared at me, as if he was begging me to understand that he had no choice, before his face hardened and he again leveled his wand at my chest.

"I don't want to kill you, Neville, I truly don't. But I have no other choice, you see."

My throat was parchment, but I managed to stay calm as I stated, "We all have a choice, Draco. Don't…don't make the wrong one."

The shake in his arm resurfaced, his snarl more emotional than I've ever heard him; "Don't you _dare _patronize me! The 'wrong choice' is subject to opinion--you cannot protect me, therefore I _must_ kill you! …Or die trying."

My eyes widened when I saw him steel himself, a satisfied gleam entering his eyes as he looked beyond me, seeing what I could only presume--that everyone…or perhaps just someone…behind me racing to curse him before he could curse me first.

His lips formed words I knew everyone would misconstrue, because I was the only one close enough to read what he'd said instead; "Forever my friend."

It was then he was hit with a curse--not the killing curse, but something close in intensity of pain to a Crucio. I was frozen in shock and deep horror, frozen as his body bowed with light and his eyes rolled back into his head, mouth open in a silent scream until I whipped around and screeched something unintelligible that amounted to a demand for them to cease.

Whatever it was I shouted, I don't recall that I even paused for a reaction before flying towards the young man being literally _tortured_ because he hadn't been able to bring himself to kill me.

What I never noticed through the tears streaming down my face was Harry forcibly knocking into the man cursing Draco, stopping the curse and causing my friend to thud down to the ground with a sickening crack to his skull just as I was close enough to crouch at his side. I missed how Harry was overcome with rage as he took in my distress, how my fingers shook as I touched Draco for an indication of life.

My hands on his waxy face, fingers at his neck, checking for a pulse and then sending a sweep of magic to ascertain that he wasn't going to immediately die. Things were borderline, and worry creased my forehead, causing me to miss the torn look that passed over Harry's face just before he wrenched his eyes away from us and numbly continued on.

Leaving me behind with Draco.

* * *

a/n: until next time.


	10. Talking to the Walls

it's been a while. part of that has been because i was rewriting parts of the story later in the time-line, and the other part has been sheer laziness. either way, this is late, and probably not long enough. but i hope to become more regular, so look for one in the following weeks (not next week, i'm heading out of state for my sister's graduation).

thanks to you who are still reading.

also, ffnet needs to stop taking out my page breaks. wtmf?

_saturday, 29 may, 2010. 6:43 pm._

_

* * *

_

_Things were borderline, and worry creased my forehead, causing me to miss the torn look that passed over Harry's face just before he wrenched his eyes away from us and numbly continued on. Leaving me behind with Draco. _

- - - _(chapter begins)_

"No, I _can't_ think that! You don't understand!"

"I understand _enough_! I understand that he didn't choose _you_!"

A loaded moment of silence, and then, wretched sobbing. And Ron reached forward and gave his friend sanctuary within his embrace.

...

Although two weeks passed by, Draco had yet to wake for more than a fuzzy moment or two at a time, not even knowing who he was, that I could tell. They told me from the beginning that he might remain thus, never quite in the world of the conscious, a scattered vegetable like my parents. Although I'd demanded to be told, I almost wished I hadn't been, rather depressed by the bleak prognosis.

Depressed about Draco, about Harry's blank eyes and how Ron won't even look at me anymore.

Depressed about how Hermione stares at me sometimes, as if trying to find something she'd lost hope in, something within my soul.

Harry's eyes scare me the most, for they say nothing, and yet, everything. He saw too much, had to do too much. Ron won't let me alone to talk to him-nobody talks to him. Nobody talks to me. Not anymore.

And Draco won't wake up.

...

A light touch on my shoulder was enough to jerk me awake, jumping into warlike awareness before my brain cleared enough to remember I had fallen asleep in Draco's hospital room again.

"Mr. Longbottom, you ought to head home now. I promise, we'll inform you should there by any change in his condition."

The mediwitch standing at my side was one of the more kind ones assigned to the ward…Ms. Stratford, if I remembered correctly. It was an empty comfort knowing the names of everyone assigned to Draco, knowing each one personally. Most of them treat him as they would any other patient, despite that everyone knows he was an active Deatheater. Everyone _knows_.

Grunting lowly, I wiped gummy sleep from my eyes and stood, popping a kink out of my spine as I did so. I studied my friend for a moment, taking in his placid face in sleep, before I turned with a sigh. At least when _he_ dreams, he's not haunted by nightmares from the past. He doesn't lay awake at night as I do, seeing people fall over and over again, recalling with clarity the feeling of the wand in my hands heating up from the severity of the curses I'd cast at _people_.

I'd killed so many, killed them before they could kill me.

"I'll be back tomorrow," I promised to empty silence, shuffling from the room and heading out of the building, apparating back to the large house I've been living in since graduation.

...

It was late when I let myself in, everything dark but for the torch always left burning through the night in the front hall. I trudged up the dark, wooden stairs, too tired to even feel disquiet at being alone in the night.

At the top of the stairs, I paused as I heard a faint, uneasy groaning coming from Harry's bedroom, easily identified as caused by one of his nightmares. Voldemort might no longer scorch his dreams, but there are things just as terrible lurking in his head, as they are in mine.

When I quietly opened his door and peeked inside, it took me a few moments to make out that he was twisted up in his sheets, every desperate thrash just tightening the blanket's hold. And even though I've not been welcome near him for a long time, I walked into the room and over to the bed, half-kneeling on the mattress as my hands went to his shoulders, giving an inane attempt at stilling his movements.

As soon as I touched him, he stiffened and popped open his eyes, wildly glazed and practically insane as they stared up at mine-I was frozen by that stare, breath caught in my chest.

His gaze pulled away when he twisted, a low groan spilling from him as the blanket prevented much movement.

"Shh, Harry, be still," I murmured, and he again stiffened, words coming out slurred.

"Make 'em go 'way, make 'em lemme _go_!" he desperately whined, breath coming in small choking gasps and groans-my fingers slid up to pet his hair and cheeks, words soothing as I forced him to grow still again so I could untangle him from his bind and keep him calm.

"Nev…Nev's so far away…."

The faint whine startled me, his fingers clutching at my shirt as his eyes stared off at nothing, as if searching for me in the distance.

"Harry, it's me, it's Neville. I'm right here," I whispered, and his eyes moved around the room as he continued staring out into the shadows, as if he could see things I could not.

I moved, saying his name, but his eyes closed and his body gave a strange twitch, a bizarre roil before his breath escaped in a low sigh as he grew completely still. I stared, frightened when I saw how his chest didn't rise again. I fumbled with my wand, raising the lights while rolling him onto his back and putting my ear to his mouth, scared when nothing puffed out.

"Harry? _Harry_? Breathe, _please breathe_!"

My voice was shrill with panic as I got to my knees beside him, my body going through motions I'd only read about once before in a book Derik leant me-I pinched his nose shut and tilted his head back before bending down and breathing into his mouth.

It took three deep breaths before he suddenly gave out a gasping howl, back arching up before abruptly relaxing once more, his eyes popping open as he wheezed for breath, sane eyes now filled with terror. I helped him be able to breath, murmuring sounds of relieved comfort until he finally calmed, his gaze finally flickering onto me, finally _seeing_ me.

"Neville?"

His voice was unsure, eyes wet as he peered at me, as if I'd melt away into one of his dreams. I brushed his cheek with gentle fingers, my smile somewhat damaged through relief.

He let out a faint sob and flung arms around my waist, his face in my lap as he clung to me, shaking.

His whimper came out muffled; "Was scared you'd left me."

My eyes stung, knowing how close I'd come to losing _him_, but I didn't say anything, just ran my hand over his back until he moved, allowing me to lay down beside him. After a while, his eyes sought and found mine, staring for a long time before he leaned in for a soft peck to the corner of my mouth and then relaxing against the bed, his arm slung over my side as he pressed close and gradually fell back asleep.

Harry confuses me…scares me-I never know what to feel around him anymore. But after the adrenaline from the scare fell away, exhaustion played at the edges of my brain, and I settled more comfortably against Harry in the intention of falling asleep.

Even still, the sound of his door opening had me raising my head in time to see Bill make his way into the room. I quietly patted the mattress, giving a fond chuckle when he barreled his rotund body up onto the bed. He curled up at our feet, giving off a soft sigh as he settled in for sleep.

This…this is where I feel like I belong.

And so, dousing the lights, I too fell into sleep.

...

It soon became apparent that if I didn't seek out Harry's bed at night, I was going to wake up with him having found his way into mine, his hands and feet always against me even as he slept, never letting me go.

When asked, he said I helped him stay asleep at night, that my presence comforted him even when he wasn't conscious. That somehow, even then, he could tell I was there. And I began to see a difference in him when awake, how much healthier he looked, even though he's always vaguely embarrassed to be caught seeking me out again, even though I tell him I don't mind.

I've gotten so used to the nightly visits that I'll sleepily lay in bed and wait for him-sometimes I don't even bother heading to my own room, falling asleep in Harry's while he wraps up Order business before heading upstairs himself. But wherever I choose to sleep, Bill is always sure to follow-I'd often wake up sandwiched between two overly-hot bodies, faint snores and breathing a comfort in the darkness.

But things between Ron and myself never improved, his silently accusing glares still as sharp as they ever were-he hasn't willingly shared space with me since the battle. …Since the moment I broke my promise to Harry, the promise that I wouldn't ever leave his side.

Ron hates me for that, for staying with Draco to make sure he actually made it into the care of St. Mungo's-he hates me, and has every right to do so. Harry might have forgiven me in his own way, his voice airy every time he guides the subject away from whenever I try bringing it up.

As if I hadn't betrayed him at all.

...

I found it difficult to broach a subject I'd had mulling in my head for a few weeks, just three months past the battle that changed so many things. While Draco had shown actual improvement, waking for longer periods, his memory was still spotty. He knew me, recognized who I am, who he is, but he couldn't connect the memories from his life as having actually happened.

He stared at me, puzzled as I recounted various tales-it'd torn me to see the sheer disbelief, the horror on his face once I'd quietly confirmed that he'd become a Deatheater, that it _had_ been him doing all those awful things under the service of Voldemort. I didn't know everything, didn't have to, seeing his face when he realized the truth was enough, when he turned away from me in shame.

I wished I didn't have to tell him the truth, that I could have lied and said all those memories were rotten figments of imagination, one long nightmare after another, nothing more. But I couldn't-he wouldn't have wanted sugar-coated pity before, wouldn't have wanted to continue living thin lies.

He still suffers from long bouts of unconsciousness, but the moments between are becoming more regular, his memory and sense of self slowly seeping back to him.

So, I broached the difficult subject one night, during dinner.

"I want to bring Draco home, out of St. Mungo's. He'll improve much more quickly that way."

Harry's fork dropped from senseless fingers, mashed potatoes and gravy splattering the table and his shirt, but he didn't even notice, eyes wide and disbelieving as he stared at me.

"What? That fucker, _here_?" Ron hissed, and I swallowed back automatic anger, as well as the desire to rise to his level and snap back.

Instead, my voice was patient as I explained, "What he needs is quiet, someplace friendlier…he's not under medical treatment anymore, he just needs to get his mind back in order. And believe me, he can't do it there."

"You can't bring that bastard in here, what are you thinking?" Ron demanded, and I counted to three before opening my mouth to retort, cut off as Hermione traitorously threw her lot in as well.

"He's absolutely right, Neville, you're raving mad if you want to bring Draco Malfoy here. It simply won't work, and it's not right."

I bit my tongue to still my arguments, almost drawing blood before I could bring myself to say, "Then…then I guess I'll have to leave then, won't I?"

I jumped, we all did, when Harry's fists hit the table, furious as he shouted, "You _can't_! You _can't_ leave!"

"Come with me."

He deflated at my blurted invitation, green eyes blinking slowly.

"Really?"

His voice was small, hesitant and unsure whether or not to believe me.

"Yeah."

I stared at him, talking as if we were the only two at the table, the only two in the room. He took a moment to think, various emotions flickering over his face before he finally settled on reluctant enthusiasm.

"Where?"

I smiled, relaxing for the first time since I'd decided this needed to be addressed.

"Home, Harry. I'm going home."


	11. Black Wave Bad Vibrations

and so, i'm back from my sister's graduation. decided to post a slightly longer chapter than normal to make up for the delay. and, someone expressed that the last chapter was the end of the fic, but it was not. there are probably...another four or five chapters left in this one, i think. not done yet, no.

anyway. thanks to **Kiira-san**, **lynxzpanther**, **ImmoralVirtues**, and **x8jessica8x** for reviews for chapter ten.

_saturday, 12 june, 2010. 8:54 pm_

* * *

_I smiled, relaxing for the first time since I'd decided this needed to be addressed. "Home, Harry. I'm going home."_

_… (chapter begins)_

"You've gone mad."

Draco's voice was dry as he echoed Hermione's earlier assessment of the plan. I'd surprised him with an early visit, catching him awake and daydreaming as he sat at the ward window, hands folded primly in his lap as he sat in the wheelchair like a king. His hair was still askew from sleep, a faded blue throw across his legs to keep out the morning chill.

"No, I don't quite think I have," I replied casually, swinging my legs back and forth as I sat on his bed, my palms keeping my balance as I leaned back against them.

He turned his face back towards the window, voice mildly confused as he said, "No, I suppose I'm the barmy one here, yes?"

"You don't have to be. That's why I want to take you home."

He snorted; "I have no home…I've been homeless ever since…I can't…quite remember now. What was it we were talking about?"

He turned back to me, a genuine look of bemusement on his face as he looked around with childlike eyes. The episodes always descend suddenly like this-he'll be mentally coherent one moment, and completely lost the next, lasting for quite some time before he's able to sort himself out again. And it hurts me to see, every time.

I rose from the bed and cross over to him, hand gentle on his thin shoulder as I focused his wandering attention back upon myself.

"I'm taking you home, Draco."

"Home?" he questioned, allowing me to rake my fingers through his fine, blond hair, allowing me to fix it even though he couldn't care less about it at the moment. He'll care later, he always does.

"Yes, would you like that? To go home with me?" My voice was softly parental, as if talking to a young child.

"Home," he agreed in a quiet voice, his hand coming up and gripping my forearm, leaning against me and nuzzling my side. I let him do so, even though it was hard to connect this with the Draco who's still alive in my mind.

I can see him even now, remembering those long potion lessons, his caustic voice berating me yet again for some stupid mistake I'd just repeat five minutes afterward. He was one reason I was able to graduate as I had, and I'd never been able to thank him for that. I'm going to, once he's better, when he won't feel as though I feel sorry for him.

I don't feel pity for Draco, just sorrow…for a very good friend.

…

"So, this is where you were born, huh?"

Harry stood in the front foyer of my small estate home, the architecture more of a house than cottage, even though there was already a warm, cozy feeling to it. This is where I spent the first years of my life, and now it's completely mine.

I've come home again.

"Yes. My mother inherited the property when her great-aunt passed on, and now I've inherited it also. Too bad they'll never be well enough to come back, if even for just a day. They wouldn't even know where they were."

I was dreamily vacant as I wandered through the lower floor, fingers finding the things left behind, the belongings that have been taken care of for so many years. The belongings that have waited for owners who'd never be coming back.

But I have, now, with Harry. I think the change would be good for him too, even though I'm angry that Ron and Hermione don't see it that way. They'd wanted him to stay with them, there at Grimmauld. It's not as though he wouldn't ever see them again, he still _works_ with them-he'll still visit. But me, they've made it clear that I should just keep away if I plan to continue the betrayal of Harry's friendship by befriending Draco.

It hurts, of course it does-I'd grown so dependent upon their friendship. Even Ron's. That tough-headed bastard gets on my nerves just about every other minute, but I've always considered him my friend, almost like a brother. He's my house mate, classmate, has been since the beginning of our time at Hogwarts. I know it's because he's a loyal fellow that he snubs me, but still…it hurts.

Harry's arm slung around my shoulders in a good-natured fashion, his grin infectious as he stated, "Ya know, this place is great, Nev. …Welcome home."

…

I took the master bedroom as my own, with two extra guest rooms besides my own. It also had its own attached bath, an added incentive and luxury after having had to share quarters with others for so long.

Harry's room was furthest down the hall, and had the most windows and airy atmosphere. He'd been dumbfounded when I'd shown him that one in particular, especially as I'd shown him something I could only vaguely remember from whenever I'd stayed here in my childhood-under the bed, a tight squeeze for an adult body, was my name carved into the baseboard against the wall.

My hand had wiped away the dust masking the marks, causing me to sneeze and send more dust particles to float around in the beam of light from the electric torch left behind by the caretaker. Harry teased me about not using a spell, but I shrugged-I've secretly always enjoyed the look of an electric torch, its bright light dispelling the darkness in a compelling manner.

"You carved this?" he asked quietly, a fingertip following the sloppily carved lines of my name, his nail testing the deepness of each cut.

"Yes. Gran said I used to sleep in this room as an infant, and I always stayed here when we'd visit for a week or two during summer hols. Haven't been here for years though, since before third year, maybe."

Again, he felt the lines of my name, seemingly captivated by them.

We lay wedged shoulder-to-shoulder beneath the bed, a very tight squeeze for the both of us, but it was almost magic in and of itself. Nothing could touch me under here.

Harry glanced at me, but I didn't notice, lost as I was in my thoughts and unaware of the dreamy smile twisting my lips. Not, that is, until his voice sounded close to my ear, saying my name and jerking me from my reverie.

"Hm?" I mumbled, looking at him and surprised at just how close he'd gotten-when had he managed to shift even closer without my noticing?

I breathed in sharply in surprise…and inhaled a load of dust, causing me to splutter and cough, hastily panicking and trying to back out from beneath the bed. I scraped up my entire backside, my shirt rucking up as the wood dug into my back and drew hot and stinging wounds, but at last I was free and able to cough out the dust.

"Nev, you're bleeding!" Harry hissed as I choked, and I shook my head that it didn't matter, my head aching as I coughed.

He left me, and I managed to stop the spasms in my throat and chest, tears leaking from my eyes at the force of will it took to still my coughing. But he came back with water, handing it to me with a worried glance, hovering nearby as I gulped it down and coughed a bit, relieved when I finally managed to calm my throat my completely.

"That was serious."

His tone was one of concern, but I shook my head once more, not feeling up to anything beyond that, not with the pounding headache I'd developed.

"Need to lie down."

My throat was raw and scratchy, and I hissed out a groan as I flailed to my feet, caught by Harry's hand on my upper arm. The welts on my back stung as I walked from the room to my bedroom, kicking off my shoes and flopping on top of the cool duvet, burrowing my dusty face into my pillow.

Harry let me be, quietly 'snick'ing the door shut behind him.

…

"I can't believe you…deliberately waited until I wasn't in my right mind, you _arse_!"

Draco was livid, leaning against the wall as he panted with his fury upon finding himself out of St. Mungo's and in my home. His accusation was true, because I _had_ waited until he was disorientated before bringing him home, not wanting to deal with his protest and acidic wounds in the process. He can get so nasty if he believes I'm babying him, feels hurt if others pity him.

Harry's good mood for the few days prior were dampened once I brought Draco home, but he'd known I would from the very beginning. I wasn't asking for miracles, but I wish one or the other would get past their bitter animosity.

"Would you have come with me otherwise?" I shrewdly asked, and his eyes narrowed into slits, fingers bunching into tense fists.

"I don't want to be here with _you_. Or…or _him_. I _hate_ you."

I abruptly advanced on him, my eyes cold and causing him to pull backwards, panic flicking across his pinched face.

"I want you here and _out_ of that place. I don't want you to end up like my parents, because I _don't_ hate you. And furthermore, I don't _care_ if you hate me, I don't care whatever else you bitch about, because you'll always be my friend, and I can't stand to see you suffer if I could help it."

His face shuttered, dark and angry-and hurt.

"I don't need your help."

I stared at him, making him uneasy before I pulled back, my mood changing as I flippantly replied, "Of course not, you're Malfoy, right?"

His fist connected with my chest in an irritated fashion, the blow having little strength behind it as he muttered, "Prat."

"Oh, no doubt. But c'mon, I've made supper."

He allowed me to tug him from the wall, walking beside me even as he gave a theatrical shudder of horror.

"Oh, hey, I'm not that bad a cook," I protested, and he gave a dry reply.

"You forget, I had to fudge your potions most of the time, idiot. Perhaps you don't recall, but I happened to be on the receiving end of many explosive disasters."

"You ever think maybe I used to just let them explode?" I asked seriously, and he glared poisoned daggers, causing my mask to slip and laughter to cackle out.

His teeth ground with exasperation, only furthering my mirth. But now he had something to think about, not being altogether positive as to whether or not I spoke the truth. Actually…I'm not sure whether to be insulted he'd think me so subtly devious.

…

"Potter."

"Malfoy."

Both were ridiculously cordial and cool with each other, causing my eyes to roll as I threw my lot in with, "And Longbottom. Shut and eat, both of you."

They looked at me with aggravation, and then shot each other a dark and nasty look as they dug into the potato and leek soup I'd made earlier. It was pretty decent, although there was a bit too much milk-I mentally noted to use a heavy cream the next time and see if there wasn't some improvement.

Draco managed just a few bites before he paused, dropping his spoon with a tiny gasp as he stared at Harry and I with wide eyes.

Recognizing he was caught in a relapse, I gently reached over and rubbed his shoulder, saying, "You're alright, Draco, you're with friends."

"Me?"

The response was innocently baffled, as if it were so inconceivable that he could have any friends, especially ones such as myself.

"Of course I'm your friend. You're my friend too, you know, it goes both ways."

He stared at me a long moment, searching my face before abruptly shrugging and turning back to his soup-he delicately picked his spoon out of the liquid, awkwardly licking the handle before being able to use the utensil properly.

"Ok, if you say so."

It's still unnerving how compliant he becomes when like this, how he literally accepts everything I might say. I once experimented and suggested he might have been a redheaded belly dancer with saggy yabbo's, and he believed me. Unluckily for me, he also remembered later what I'd done.

Harry remained silent throughout the meal, eating methodically even though I noted how his eyes kept flicking over to the congenial Draco every so often. He'd never had to experience one of his episodes, so it must have been all rather strange to him. It's still strange to me.

But, Draco was going to get better. I was going to accept nothing less.

…

"So, you two made it yet? Am I intruding upon Potter's lovely honeymoon life?"

The acid in Draco's words disguised the true interest behind it. I rolled my eyes as I moved my pawn, staring down at the board and then cursing as I saw I'd managed to quite neatly slice my own wrists. He grinned, swooping in and taking immediate advantage of my blunder, sending me on a quick route to losing.

"We're not a couple, believe me."

He glanced up at the sour remark, surprised by the vehement sorrow that had begun creeping up on me. Sitting back in his seat, he regarded me with intense eyes designed to make me squirm-I frowned down at the wizard's chessboard with feigned concentration, seemingly contemplating my next move. …One that won't completely slaughter me within two moves.

"You want Potter."

I flinched at the quiet statement, simply because he sound so _sure_.

"Don't say that, it's not true."

He was expectantly silent, and I felt compelled to argue further, "We're just friends."

He snorted, "Neville, honestly, just marry the blighter and shag off into the sunset. Your malady is palpable enough to choke me."

Fire built up and simmered on my face, burning the skin beneath my eyes as I murmured, "We're already married."

Stunned, he uncharacteristically gaped, ignoring completely when I made a devastatingly suicidal move.

"M-Married? Then…what the _fuck_?"

I rubbed at my forehead with the heel of my hand, squinting at the board as if it could swallow my embarrassment; "It's…complicated. It happened before the war, and was supposed to be annulled after, but…well, neither of us has brought it up yet."

He leaned forward a bit, serene now as he guessed, "And you don't want to bring it up."

I shrugged, but then shook my head, glancing up at him.

"No reason to do so."

"And plenty of reason not to?"

I didn't answer his pointed question, gesturing down at the chessboard. He let me change the subject by massacring my queen. Damn, lost in six moves.

…

"Neville?"

My quill scratched against parchment; "Hm?"

"Are you busy right now?"

I looked up from where I knelt on wood flooring with my notes and sketches of plants, seeing Harry standing at the door to the makeshift greenhouse I'd made of the screened-in back porch. Once I could afford a crew, I planned to have a larger building put up, already having sketches of possible layouts and conditions.

"Not particularly busy," I lied, and he leveled a knowing stare at me that had me offering up an apologetic smile.

"But I could make time, seeing how you're home early," I promised, and he rolled his eyes.

"Late, actually, it's past seven, Nev."

I blinked; "T'is?"

"Yes. And I can't seem to find Mal…Draco."

I bolted to my feet, notes scattering and causing him to wince as I pushed past him.

"You didn't see him when you came in?"

"I don't know, I try to ignore the blighter."

"Shove it, Harry, this isn't the time," I reprimanded, and he sighed even as he tugged my arm in the direction of the front door.

"I may, or may not, have seen him in the front room."

"And he's not in the house?" I barked, and he shook his head.

I cursed as I ran a hand across my cheek, dirt staining my skin, and then cursed more vehemently, worry eating at my mind.

"Where's Bill?"

Harry balked at my sudden demand, pausing and bemusedly saying, "I dunno, actually."

The twine around my wrist was gently warm, which told me that wherever Bill was, he was happy and content. And that usually meant he was being either cuddled or fed, giving me the feeling that if I could find where he'd troddled off to, I'd be sure to find Draco with him.

Prodding the twine with the tip of my wand, I felt it grow warmer as we grew closer to the front door, so I passed through it and onto the front walk. We went past the gardens still trying to bloom and onto the dirt drive, which sets the house apart from the main road about a quarter of a mile. We followed the drive until the hot twine caused me to veer off to the right, following a subtle trail through a coppice of dense trees.

Gradually, I caught sight of blond hair through foliage, and my anxious speed slackened off a bit before I broke into a loping gait, finding Draco propped against a tree, a few apples in his lap as he fed Bill bites from one in his hand. He looked up as we came upon him, and his eyes told me he was in the midst of one of his episodes.

He watched as I walked over and crouched down beside the pair, his lips spreading in a childish grin as he picked up an apple with a bite take from its skin, handing it to me.

"For me?"

He nodded, and I accepted it with a slight grin, watching him as he returned to taking bites and giving them to my happily grunting pet. I'd been so worried, and I shouldn't have been.

Standing, I rubbed at that aching space between my eyes, jumping when a cool hand tentatively met with the back of my neck and shoulders. And only because it was just what I needed did I stand there and let Harry's fingers work on me, applying the right amount of pressure whenever he encountered a knot or tension.

"It's been difficult for you, hasn't it?"

I acknowledged the question with a faint hum, eyes slipping closed as I allowed him to massage my back and shoulders, the pleasure of it wiping my mind.

"I'm sorry, Nev…I've done nothing to help. I'm always gone with work, but I never help with Malfoy, even when I'm here."

"Knew it would be a lot of work to keep an eye on him when I first brought him here…today was just as much my fault as anything else."

"…I don't like seeing you stressed."

His genuine words gave me pause, and I pulled away, his hands slipping down to his sides as we stood there.

"I'm always interrupting you while you're working."

Another apology, a blind statement aching with an underscored want to say more. He doesn't need to apologize, not to me.

"I'm so-"

I turned with the intention to tell him not to say it, to stop apologizing, but he surprised me by being too near. I jerked back even as his hand shot out and caught my waist, fingers hooking me closer as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my mouth, lingering before deepening it when I couldn't help but react in a positive way.

Tongues slipped into the space between us as we sidled closer together, my hand pressed against the back of his neck and head as I maneuvered around his glasses, wanting nothing more than to taste the warmth that is Harry.

"Uh-oh, all gone!"

We jerked apart with a guilty start, arms unwinding from unconscious holds as we stumbled backwards, shooting glances over to a vaguely confused Draco Malfoy, his palms held up in the air to demonstrate that he'd run out of apples.

I ran my palms down my shirt front, clearing my throat a bit as I suggested, "Let's go back in, yeah?"

He nodded eagerly, displacing Bill and scrambling up to his feet, bouncing in place while Harry's face turned pink as I caught his sidelong glance.

"I can take him," he quietly offered, but my cheeks and ears burned as I shook my head, wetting my lips so I could talk.

"Just…take Bill for me, ok?"

He nodded, and soon, the two of them were well ahead of Draco and I, Harry glancing back at me a few times before allowing himself to be pulled forward by an overeager Bill. Leaving me behind with a sloppily humming Draco.

"Cut that out, you faker."

He dropped the act with a sheepish grin, shrugging off that he'd been caught.

"Getting fresh with Potter, I see."

"Shut up, you wanker, just…shut up."

An overgrown lock of hair fell into my eyes and I whisked it back into place with an embarrassed huff, out of sorts and not having any clue as what to do about any of it. I kissed Harry. Well, technically he kissed _me_, but still. We'd been kissing…_seriously_ kissing.

I abruptly groaned and butted my head against Draco's shoulder, muttering, "Kill me, please."

He was actually good-humored enough to cheerfully refuse, stating, "This torture is just so much better to watch. Honestly, I'd have killed you already had I been so inclined."

"That makes everything rosy, my dear."

"I rather think so."

"Merlin, shut up."

"Just hurry, will you, I've got to piss something awful. …And there are bits of apple in my teeth, fucking 'ell."

I couldn't help laughing at the haughty expression of discomfort on his face, glad he could rid me of my embarrassment with just a few words.

…

"Oi, Neville."

The call had me turning from the smoky cast-iron skillet on top of the stove, poised with a metal spatula to turn over the fish once I felt they needed it.

"Harry."

He came close again, close enough for me to feel his warmth above the heat emanating from our supper-his eyes bored into mine from behind those glasses of his. He could hide behind them, but just what did I have? Nothing but hair in need of a good trimming.

"I…um, I wanted to know if you might need any help?"

I blinked at the awkward offer, but indicated a small pile of vegetables out on the counter across the way, watching as he briskly nodded and moved towards the fresh vegetables just begging to be chopped and mutilated before consumption.

And he'd only been coming in to help, so why did I feel a flash of disappointment at the distance?

At what point during our mutual lust had I fallen for him?

…

The sound of the door swishing when Draco entered the kitchen caught my attention, Harry clinking plates from the cupboard onto the countertop-I shared a glance with Draco before turning back to the fish, hearing the door swish once more. That'd be Harry, then, to set the table.

"I'm in love with him."

There was long, pregnant silence, and I sighed, adding, "So, you can finally get off my case about it, alright? I'm freely admitting I've loved him since school, even though I've always known it's pointless."

More silence and then the swish of the door, and I looked around, only to find myself in an empty kitchen with a pan full of burning fish.

Not even sure why my chest hurt like I'd taken a curse full-on, I flicked the flame on the stove down to nothing, retreating to my greenhouse in silence. There, I managed to convince my stomach I was too busy to eat-too busy and so much work to be done. Convinced myself it was sweat dropping from the end of my nose onto my notes, blotting the pages with dots of smeared ink. Convinced myself it was the stifling heat in the greenhouse making me choke, dirt in my watering eyes, a miniscule splinter I'd dug out of my finger two days prior.

It wasn't my aching chest making me cry, no, that couldn't have been it.

…

Fingers gently shook me awake, hesitant to touch me more than necessary, and I blinked gummy eyes open, confused why I was lying sprawled between rows of vegetation, the only light coming from the open door into the house. Must have fallen asleep while working again. Those same fingers hiked me up to my feet, the haze in my brain extending to my field of vision.

Confused, I murmured, "Harry?"

A baleful snort; "The bastard's gone, Neville-flew off to wherever the hell he spends all his time. Probably with those other two bastards."

"…Love him."

"I know, I know. C'mon, up you to bed before I suddenly regress and send us to our deaths off some balcony or something as equally fuckwit as that."

The haze lifted somewhat as I was led through the house and up the wooden stairs, each step creaking in warm familiarity.

When I was brought to my room, he unceremoniously pushed me towards the bed, but I reached out and grabbed him before falling, the move uncoordinated and sending us both into an ungainly, painful heap on the mattress.

"Bloody _hell_!"

I ignored the undignified shriek, curling up against him and breathing out, "Dun' go…stay wi' me."

"Clingy bastard, at least let me get your shoes off!"

I obediently loosened my hold, and he moved with crisp motions and sharp curses, pulling off my shoes and his own and stripping down to white boxers and a t-shirt before pulling off my pants and joining me in bed. I curled up on him once more, ignoring the acidic muttering-if I didn't know any better, one might have mistaken the derision in his voice for faint fondness.

...

a/n: until next time.


	12. Should've Known Better

new chapter. about a third of the way through, there is a time jump in the storyline. a fairly significant amount of time, at that. it's noted, so there shouldn't be any problems figuring that out. there is still quite a bit of the story left beyond this chapter. don't despair.

thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter: **crimson**, **lynxzpanther**, **NLaddict**, **NATWEST**, **farwalker**, and **Kiira-san**.

_tuesday, 22 june, 12:41 am._

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* * *

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_I curled up on him once more, ignoring the acidic muttering-if I didn't know any better, one might have mistaken the derision in his voice for faint fondness._

_… (chapter begins)_

The sky was still gray beyond the windows when I slid from the sprawled grip of an asleep blond-who happens to both drool and snore just as much as Harry ever did. Harry's bedroom door was open and the room empty, so I headed downstairs, the house silent and empty beyond a faint fluttering coming from the front sitting room.

Entering the room, I blinked at seeing an owl sleeping on the back of a newly upholstered armchair that once belonged to my mother's great-aunt something-or-other. A letter was clearly attached to its leg, and the bird woke as I approached, its wings flapping and sending down small feathers-it let out a baleful hoot and glare, snipping at my fingers in revenge for having to wait for some time before it allowed me to untie the scroll and send it on its way.

Curious, I unbound the scroll and rolled it open, recognizing Harry's scrawl even before I could make out what it said. It was messier than usual, as though he'd been in a mad rush while writing, so it took me a few moments to realize what I was reading, my body going numb as I slowly moved towards the chair and sunk down.

Slowly, so slow I wasn't even aware of it, my magic crackled up to the surface and then spilled out from within the confines of my body, my spine bowing as I hunched forward, fingers clenched tight in my lap as a mental scream tore me inside out.

Unknowingly, my hitching gasps caused magic to rock the foundation of the house, sending portraits to the floor in twinkling glass, plates slipping from the cupboards and shattering into huge slivers and fine fragments all over the yellow patterned tiles in the kitchen. Cracks appeared in one window after another before simultaneously blowing their panes.

And I kept blasting out my inaudible cry of pain and heartbreak.

Thudding footfalls rushed unsteadily down the stairs, staggering as the foundation rocked hard enough to send him nearly sprawling over the side railing. His wand in hand and ready for whatever attack he believed us under, Draco came into the front room and stopped dead, gaping at the waves of power reverberating off me.

I heard him roar my name after he recovered from the shock, but it never registered over the strange ticking deep in my head, dull and steady as a heartbeat until I knew nothing but darkness.

From that darkness floated a voice; "…A divorce. …Oh hell, Neville, I'm so sorry."

…

I woke hours later in my bed, brain fuzzy and full of metal, feeling heavy and clumsy as I sat up and winced. A hot body was again sprawled not far from my own, blond hair mussed and tangled, his wand poking from beneath his pillow.

I felt like a drained battery, made even more apparent once I reached out for my own wand, my fingers closing around its wood and not feeling any sort of awareness start up from the point of contact. I felt nothing at all when touching it, a sort of blankness knotted up inside where my magic should have been.

Bare flashbacks came back as I sat there, images of the house shaking, sparks and pops of magic zipping off my skin and flying off as tendrils and shoves of energy, far more powerful than anything I'd ever witnessed before.

I'd had a magical breakdown.

…Gone mental, is how Ron would have put it.

Slumping back against the bed, my movements jostled Draco awake as tears shimmered at the corners of my eyes before growing fatter, stronger, streaking down my face as my throat closed up. I felt him move closer as he slowly gained consciousness, hesitant arms drawing me in close to his chest while I jerked from silent sobs-his stiff embrace didn't phase me, didn't stop me from pressing my face against his shirt and sob until I'd cried myself back to sleep again.

For the first time in a long time, it's Draco providing for me.

…

The bed and room were empty when I again woke, my eyes breaking crusts as they forced themselves open, fingers coming up to scratch that roughness away as I tried to rewrap my mind around everything that had happened. Tried to remember why I felt so blank inside and out.

Why my entire body hiccupped on the thought of Harry-oh right. He didn't want me.

But regardless, I was fine, better than fine, absolutely beyond 'fine'.

The mantra pulled me to my feet, the phrase floating out of my mind once my thoughts wandered away from anything distressing related to Harry, but would then flicker back full-force whenever my breath hitched at some sudden remembrance or longing.

…He wanted a divorce, after so many months of saying nothing…after I finally admitted to myself that I _loved_ him. That I wanted him, but he didn't obviously doesn't want me. I was fine…fine…would be fine eventually. …Right?

The floor was mildly warm beneath my bare feet, toes pressing down against the rug covering the majority of my bedroom floor as I stiffly walked over for a change of clothing. My muscles ached as though I'd strained them, like maybe I'd tried to do battle with the whomping willow.

I just hoped I hadn't damaged anything important in the house.

…

My every step was sure and deliberate as I moved from my room and down the hallway, seeing how there wasn't any glass in the windowpanes I passed, but that there weren't any pieces laying about to watch for. …Because it'd blown outwards.

I reached for my wand, of the mind to at least put up some sort of weather barrier on the empty windows, but the dead null coming from my magic reminded me that I'd used it up, worn it out. Exhausted it completely. Couldn't begin to say when it might sift back, either, and that was the truly frightening part.

Picture frames were haphazardly attached to the wall along the staircase, and I took the time to manually straighten each and every one before continuing on towards the kitchen, passing through the dining room and seeing Draco seated at the table.

His chin lay propped in one palm while he stared out one of the broken windows at the dull sunshine just outside. I remained quiet as I came up and slid into a chair beside him, watching his eyes flicker over for a brief moment before they returned to the outside scene.

We were quiet for a very long time before he announced, "I can't cook."

"No surprise, there."

"Almost burnt down the house."

"Ah…. I have no magic."

He blinked, turning and pegging me with a curious stare. "None?"

"Whatsoever. I feel…well, muggle."

"Maybe because you nearly killed the both of us in one go! I literally thought we were exploding! …How the blazes did you keep that great a power masked, Neville?"

I shrugged, staring down at my clasped hands, overly concentrating on how my fingers moved against each other.

"Never had that much power before…don't think I could ever call it up on my own free will. Just when I lose control."

"Fat lot of good that does. No wonder you were utterly pathetic in school, you arse."

I gave a brief nod, feeling very small indeed, which was only exacerbated when a rustle of parchment caught my attention, my head whipping up in time to see Draco passing a bundle towards me.

"They're what you think, yes." His voice was low, too kind…full of pity.

Funny, how I hated his pity just as much, if not even more, than he'd always hated mine.

My fingertips only grazed the parchments, as if I were afraid to stain it…as though leaving one fingerprint would be proof enough that I'd seen them. If I closed my eyes and shoved them across the table, would they go away? Could I just pretend I'd never even seen them, that I had no clue I was supposed to have signed papers to null my marriage?

Swallowing down a lump in my throat, I flipped through the documents, eyes lighting upon reasons for separation-lack of consummation and irreconcilable differences. He could have _told_ me he wasn't happy, that he wanted to leave. Instead, he served me with a dirty document, flung over a distance so he wouldn't have to see my face when I read it.

I stared at the words for a long time before finally standing, pausing a moment before walking out of the room, the parchments left upon the table.

I never returned for them, not once allowing them to slip back into my mind as I immersed myself headlong into my plants.

Completely…beyond 'fine'.

… (time lapse)

"Not a one for months now, haven't lost my mind once."

Draco's voice smugly self-satisfied, his arms crossing over his chest as he dared me to contradict him in any way.

I bit my tongue and instead looked down at the table strewn with various muggle foods-a jar of blackberry jam, two enormous citrus fruits, a strange packet of what seemed to contain something called 'kippers', a tin of unappetizingly pink biscuits, and four bottles of something labeled as a 'lemon squash concentrate'.

I couldn't find much constructive to say about any of it, so looked up, exasperation bleeding into my voice, "What did you think would go through my 'ead once I'd read that note of yours? 'Gone to market'. What the bloody hell were you thinking?"

He looked down, fingering one of the fruits as he calmly stated a prepared speech; "Bored out my skull here, doing nothing. I wanted to get out, and knew you'd flip if I came out and said as much. You're so totalitarian these days, Neville. Sometimes I wonder when you actually took the time to grow a pair of balls, nevertheless _use_ them."

"Mayhap I found a pair the day everyone decided I was perfect for the position of their water closet."

I was cross because I'd been beyond sick with worry, cross because he went out and spent money on…whatever these things were. He'd gone and managed to take care of himself, and yeah, maybe that made me feel a bit cross as well.

I reached out and grabbed one of those large fruits, feeling its weight in my palm as I brought it up to my nose and inhaled it's sharp, citrus scent.

"You know shite about buying necessities," I finally informed him, my fingernails digging into the thick, puckered skin of the fruit.

His expression soured like that of the fruit's overpowering smell, but then he gave up and nodded a bit, agreeing that he was practically hopeless at muggle market.

"Froze inside…had no idea what to get, you know? Just hadn't thought that far ahead. Some muggle passed by and I asked…you know, what she'd recommend. The bottles were her idea-said something about diluting it to drink, but why they'd make something so strong as needing to dilute it like an elixir, I'll never know. Couldn't remember what kind of biscuits you bought once, so I just picked some, and, um…the jam-it looked good, so I bought it too, do we need jam?"

I couldn't help the smile quirking at the edges of my mouth as he rambled, seeing he was nervous, proud, and excited all at once.

I haven't been the only one to change since school.

…

"What is this? I've been managing on my own just fine!"

Draco's face grew two livid spots as I walked out the front door with him, my posture relaxed and untroubled.

"I know, I just feel like coming along today."

His gray eyes narrowed into slivers, and my eyebrow rose as I waited for him to argue, good-humouredly looking forward to it. That, and it was my birthday, and I didn't wish to be alone, for obvious reasons. He knew all that and gave up without comment, although I could tell it chaffed him right good to do so.

We walked the two miles to town in silence, companionship easy after his irritation faded with the physical assertion. He wore the sand-colored shoulder bag he'd acquired for just this purpose of bring home the items he sets out once a week for.

It was drizzling, water dripping from Draco's hair, which he'd tied back into a small ponytail at the nape of his neck-it was dripping from mine as well, but my hair is and always will be all over the place, so I probably looked more like a drowned rat. At least I could sweep it back once it was damp enough, ensuring it was finally out of my eyes.

About halfway between home and the village, Draco slowed to a stop, eyes squinting out the dampness in the air as he stared down the road a distance, fingers absently reaching up to grip the strap of the bag.

"Draco?" I had to sweep my bangs back again, but it was something so ingrained I never even noticed.

"Do you think I've changed?"

"From what?"

"Myself."

I took a moment thinking it over, looking over at his profile and seeing only the blank mask that is his face.

"I think you are who you are, never what you were or what you will be."

"You are so obtuse."

"No, I think you're searching for the term 'oblique'. And I am not."

His eyes narrowed as he slanted a glare my direction, and the corner of my mouth pulled upwards, causing him to shake his head and look away, fighting an indignant grin of his own. But unspoken between us was the statement that he has changed, we both have.

I think, as time goes, we get more boring. Test the theory sometime, and you'll probably find I'm right.

…

Draco grew even more reserved and pulled inward the closer we got to the village, and even more so as we walked down the few main streets until entering a tiny market, a breeze from a large fan ruffling our damp hair.

I absently swept my bangs out of my eyes, tucking some strands behind an ear and brushing back the shorter pieces. He immediately sidled down the wall to our right, and I quirked my lips a moment before doing the same, idly wondering at this strange side of him-he actually appeared to be self-conscious.

We spent some long minutes walking down the different aisles, while I would point out something I thought we might need, or anything I simply found to be interesting. Every so often, though, we'd read the title of something bizarre and then quirk glances at each other, not having a clue as to what it was, nevertheless what it might be _for_.

"…Draco! I wondered if'n you were just late, or not come'n at all."

Surprised at the friendly, overly-familiar call, I glanced down the aisle and took in the sight of a ruddy-complexioned young man, healthily thin and wiry. He seemed to be a year or two older than us, and wore the long, green apron of an employee, a whiskbroom in his hands even as his face split into an easy grin.

Draco didn't appear surprised in the least, nodding a bit coolly before it was broken by a small smile of greeting, a complete contradiction to his manner moments before.

"Mathew."

The man approached, eyebrows rising in interest; "Another list f'r me to crack today?"

Oho, now I begin to understand.

Without a word, Draco dug out the list I always make up, handing it over to the other man who frowned as he silently read, lips moving in an amusingly endearing manner.

"Just who's the bint always writes these things f'r, anyhow?"

His comment was off-hand and mildly teasing, but it made blood rush to my cheeks with surprised mortification, causing Draco to laugh.

"The 'bint' is right here, you arse. Neville, this is Mathew-he's about the only reason I can find even half the things you always ask for."

Mathew's complexion went a shade or two darker, but he recovered quickly enough to flash an unabashedly grin, reaching out for my hand and heartily shaking it once I gave it.

"Sorry, mate, but yer handwriting is kinda girly."

"It's pure chicken scratch, honest," I protested lightly, teasing despite the vague feeling of being affronted, but his replying shrug did flit a smile across my face.

In practically no time at all, Mathew found most of the things we'd come for, while helpfully directing us elsewhere for the rest, such as my gardening supplies. For the most part, he kept up a steady stream of humor, which I noticed was not for my benefit in the slightest. I wondered if Draco even noticed, as he didn't seem adverse to the attention to any effect, but there are some curiosities that ought to remain unspoken, so I let my musings slide to the back of my mind for the time being.

Walking back home, we fell into a loaded silence-I could practically feel Draco daring me to talk.

Not one to pass up the opportunity, I opened my mouth and Draco shot out, "Don't even start."

My face was the picture of genuine innocence as I plowed on with, "Can't even comment on the weather anymore?"

His glare told how much he bought the lie-not at all-and I smirked, pointedly glancing away and at our surroundings. I didn't have to say anything, knowing he'd say it soon enough anyway.

He gave a gustily put-upon sigh; "I _know_, ok, I know he…fancies me."

I had to hide the grin that cropped up from how he had to fight the sentence past his lips, but shook my head a bit as I replied, "Not that I was going to mention it or anything."

"Arse."

I held my amusement in check, remaining silent as I waited for him to calm a bit before turning serious.

"So…?"

His answer was a long time coming, his eyes focused hard on some point in the distance that I doubted he could actually see; "I don't know."

Gray eyes flashed towards mine, broadcasting a vague uncertainty as I offered a slight smile, and his eyes flashed away again, returning to the road. And sometime between then and when we ambled up the front walk, greeted by Bill at the door, the subject mutually dropped, even if it remained on our minds.

* * *

a/n: until next time.


	13. Bent

nobody ever noticed i'd slipped up a few chapters back and used "mile" as a distance marker. what the hell, right? miles. psh. anyway. new chapter. same rigmarole as usual. not a lot happens in this one, filler and the like, unless you happen to be a draco fan.

thank you to reviewers **NLaddict**, **Crimson**, **farwalker**, **NATWEST**, and **crazy-lil-nae-nae**. you guys are the reason i keep updating, because otherwise, why would i bother.

_sunday, 27 june, 2010. 1:39 am._

_

* * *

_

_Grey eyes flashed towards mine, broadcasting a vague uncertainty as I offered a slight smile, and his eyes flashed away again, returning to the road. And sometime between then and when we ambled up the front walk, greeted by Bill at the door, the subject mutually dropped, even if it remained on our minds._

_… (chapter begins)_

A week passed, maybe two, and I often found myself performing research at the table, so completely immersed in my work that Draco grew to simply shove food near at hand, where I might, or might not, remember to eat it.

On such a day, I was aware of the tea he'd set close by only once it'd gone cold, large gulps relieving my thirst but pulling a faint grimace across my mouth.

There was some rustling before he abruptly mused, "You ever going to sign these, Nev?"

I ignored the question by pretending to be solely absorbed in the tome I pored over, my head bending closer as my hand took sloppy notes on some parchment scraps.

"Neville."

Still, I ignored him, until the parchment forms slapped down over the page in front of my nose, causing me to startle backwards as if struck, pushing up and away from the table in a panicky motion.

"_Neville_!"

His voice called after me as I hurried to flee the room, and I shot over my shoulder, "NO!"

…

He found me some four or five minutes later, immersed amongst my plants, where I rigidly acted as though I was there for any other reason than to hide from him.

"Neville…."

"If he wants me to sign them, the arse can bloody well come here and ask me himself. He owes me that much."

My voice was harsh, and he sighed, looking away from me a moment before turning his gaze back.

"What if he wants to be married again? Being married to you, and then someone else…that's bigamy. He'd need the divorce."

I looked up at my friend with stricken, wide eyes, seeing his regret for having had to bring up the issue, but he wasn't going to take it back. If there's one thing I've always admired about Draco, he's never been afraid to say what must be unpleasantly addressed.

I turned back to my plants, voice hard and bitter; "Then he can come and ask me himself."

Draco's stare bore into my skull for a long moment before he finally sighed, giving in enough to walk away and leave me at peace.

I probably would have remained there until past dusk if the knotted bit of twine around my wrist hadn't grow warm, reminding me Bill needed to be fed.

I stood and left my plants, immersing myself into the routine of daily living-life is a lot easier when taken as it comes, one day at a time. Same could be said for my magic, the slow seepage of power to what it used to be-I've gained most of my power back, but not all.

Although, I begin to wonder if I'll ever return to the tenuous control of it that I'd had before-I was bad enough as it was.

…

"…He's a squib."

I glanced up upon hearing Draco's voice while kneeling in the dirt, seeing him standing at the end of the row of my freshly planted seedlings, his gaze drawn to the ground.

"Hm?"

"Mathew. He's a squib."

I blinked, unable to connect the uneasy term with the ruddy-cheeked man I'd met some weeks ago.

"How can you be so sure?"

His eyes slanted my direction, voice dry as he retorted, "He _told_ me. Only someone of our world would even know what the blazes a squib even is. He's…he's always suspected I'm a wizard, though I never told him so. Says I'm too clueless otherwise, the bloody git."

I took a moment to digest it, knowing Mathew would never have chanced such a confession if things weren't conducive between them.

"Has he kissed you yet?"

I couldn't help the smirk that flit across my face as a raging blush flared in his cheeks, his sniff indignant.

"Like I wouldn't curse him in the bollocks should he try?"

I shrugged, casually quipping, "Only if you didn't want him to in the first place."

"Are you suggesting I'm a bloody poofter like you?"

I didn't respond right away, more from dislike of the term he'd used, but he was quick to add, "Because I'm not, I'm just…."

"Just yourself, yeah?"

He went silent for a bit, watching me work before finally musing, "I can't picture myself tossing off with him."

I couldn't help letting out a barking laugh, stating, "You think I can picture having sex with Harry? It's beyond thought."

"Ok, that's just disgusting."

At least he was laughing with me, his mind off having to decide if allowing Mathew closer was what he wanted. Draco probably didn't really see it as an attraction towards another man, much as he'd stated otherwise, but for a man being personable and so sure of himself without being full of self-conceit. If nothing else, Draco greatly respects him.

But…as for having sex with Harry-we'd come pretty damn close, once, hadn't we?

…

Eyes closed, my face remained relaxed but for a hint of tension in my forehead. …There's a hallway just past the shut door before me, the hall leading down a tiny, tiny path that narrows the further you go, until it abruptly empties out into a room.

A parlor? A…no, a kitchen.

Bright.

Bright light shines from various surfaces. Bits of colored glass fragments hung in the window, catching more light and splashing muted, rainbow colors everywhere. They spin lazily, their spots of light moving across the floor and highlighting another doorway.

…No, not a doorway, another window.

Tall, tall, tall, so very tall.

A cathedral window. Like the one from the church in the village. It's difficult to believe the window to fit with the rest, but with a bit of mental push, I manage it.

If I were to open the door before me, I would _see_ all of that.

If I were to open….

"Neville? What are you doing?'

Draco's cautiously amused voice caused my eyes to pop open, seeing the closet door of the guest bedroom, the one that used to be Harry's. Nobody in here now. Upon seeing the closed door, I abruptly lost the illusion of the world beyond it that had been solely created in my mind.

"Nothing."

My answer was too quick to be the truth, and his stare grew full and weighted.

"I, um…it was just something I used to do a lot as a kid."

"Which was?"

"Um…_What Can I Make Myself Believe_."

My cheeks grew warm as he blinked, staring at me as if I were finally losing my mind.

I looked away, rubbing a hand over my hair; "I try to see if I can make myself believe in something other than what I knew to really be there. I know it's just a closet, but I…I imagined there was a hallway on the other side, that if I opened the door, I'd be able to see it…and stuff like that."

It was embarrassing to admit I'd been 'pretending', even more so when I saw Draco's mouth quirk as he fought a smile, staring at me while I tried not to combust with mortification. But instead of laughing, he softened the near-smile and walked into the room, sitting on the bed with me and staring at the closet door with a quiet expression.

"A hallway, you said?"

"Yeah."

"And…at the end of it?"

"A small kitchen with tall windows. One window was like that church window from the village, remember it…?"

My eyes slipped closed as I talked, mentally revisiting that hallway and kitchen in my mind as I explained, seeing it again. But it wasn't tangible, as it'd been before, the spell of believing gone for me.

There was a long moment of quiet after I was done, and I finally reopened my eyes, seeing that Draco's were closed, his face serene as his cocked to the side a bit, as if listening to a distant voice in another room.

Finally, he asked, "Was that it?"

Startled, I stammered, "Y-yeah."

With that, his eyes slid back open, and he gave me a bit of a smile.

"What an odd game. …I used to call it _Make It Better_."

Shocked, my mouth dropped open before I clicked it shut with some effort, seeing a hint of residual sadness about him.

"I used to believe things were better than they really were, when I was a kid. Used to sometimes wish so hard that the door to my room would lead somewhere far, far away, where I didn't have to be me if I didn't want to. …I wonder when I stopped doing that."

I didn't know what to say in the face of such childhood unhappiness, but I was saved from having to try when Bill chose that moment to nose into the room, bossy in demanding our attention of him.

Even Bill reminds me of Harry.

…

Again, I was with my plants the day Draco came in to remind me of afternoon tea-not that that was unusual, in either respect, but it was what he told me after watching me dust off the jeans I wear when working after learning how much easier they made it to kneel and shift about in the dirt.

Draco's hand found my elbow as he leaned in, voice sliding in close to my ear, surprising me with, "Mathew is here for tea. Be nice."

Laughing at him caused me some momentary pain, and I rubbed the sore spot on my side from where he'd viciously pinched me while we walked inside-I swear, sometimes he acts like such a girl. I was still frowning mild displeasure when entering the dining room, but my frown faded when I saw Mathew was seated already, looking completely at ease with himself but for the mild anxiety drawn around his eyes.

He turned at my greeting, smile genuine though he immediately locked eyes with Draco when he followed me into the room, Mathew's interest bare and unhidden. I smirked when my friend ducked back into the kitchen with unnatural fluster, leaving me alone with the cheerful man I barely knew.

I sat in my customary place, and he startled me when he leaned forward, chin resting in his hand as he caught my eye.

"Give it t'me straight-like…d'I even stand a chance?"

Though his tone was light-hearted and teasing, the question was made in all seriousness.

"Well…what do you know of him?"

My caution drove all traces of teasing away, his eyes moving down to the tabletop a moment as he replied honestly, "A lot more than he thinks I do."

I believed him and would have pressed for more, but never got the chance, for Draco chose that moment to return with the tea kettle and a plate of scones I'd made the day before last. They'd turned out tasty enough, but were a bit rough-apparently, using magic to stir the batter only works as far as you can _control_ the magic enough to stir with any accuracy. I have gotten back most of my magical ability, but my control is far shakier than I can ever recall being before. I have the suspicion that it may be that my heart's just not into it.

Draco's selection of foodstuffs included ancient pink biscuits from ages ago-horrid things, really-some sausages and the like, and those scones. He was usually much better at this. I stuck to nibbling on a warmed scone and drinking my tea, not hungry enough to venture further. Mathew, on the other hand, proceeded to pull in quite a bit of tuck, not hesitating to serve himself seconds of everything…including the biscuits.

He almost reminded me some of Ron, certain mannerisms between them being oddly familiar-which of course set my mind to thinking of Harry.

I wonder if that sharp longing ever goes away.

The conversation between the three of us was easy enough-I'm of the opinion that Mathew, as a force, can brighten any room. He's certainly lively enough. He talked about how not many in his immediate family are actually wizards, how his older sister is a squib, but their younger brother was already showing signs of being able to perform magic, the first in their generation. His mother went to Beauxbatons, and was a fair witch, but married a muggle. So, he grew up around magic in a muggle environment.

But even his family hadn't been able to escape the terrors of Voldemort, the dreadful darkness it had all been.

Although he never came right out and said as much, I got the feeling that he knew quite a lot about who we were during the war, or rather, what Draco was, because he often hedged around certain hairy topics-namely, anything at all to do with the Dark Lord or Deatheaters. If I noticed, I was certain Draco had as well, glancing over to see a hooded nature in his grey eyes until the topics of conversation shifted away from magic altogether.

Eventually, I left them to their talking as I carried everything back into the kitchen, tidying up while planning to go back to my plants.

Bill had other plans, however, distracting me with his demands to be fed and paid attention to. Scratching his ears was always good to make me chuckle, seeing how my ministrations would reduce him to a helpless puddle in my hands, devoted to my scratching fingers. He doesn't wander the house quite as much as he used to, but I still find him often in the spare room, curled up on the rug but not sleeping-as if he misses Harry as much as I do.

They'd always been such good companions, even though Bill was mine…Harry was just as much a part of Bill's 'family'.

…

Over time, Mathew's tea-time visits grew more frequent, and he even started staying on 'til supper before riding his bicycle back to the village once darkness began to steal sunlight away at the end of the day. In the beginning, it was unsettling to have him around so often, but he grows on a person, and I came to see him as a welcome voice in the house, the days seeming empty whenever he wasn't around.

He found my compulsive habits with plants very odd, and appeared threatened more than once by my easy companionship with Draco before he came to understand that it is, and always has been, pure friendship between us.

Of course, it helped when Draco finally came to his own realization about what he wanted with the man-it was a subtle change, but one I was aware of all the same. There came about something almost predatory in him, taking charge of the situation now that he'd decided there was a situation to take charge _of_. A bit of the old Draco came back, the assertiveness and complete confidence of himself.

Once Draco labeled Mathew as a romantic subject of interest, there was no hope for the other man-Draco gets what Draco wants. End of story.

It was perhaps only a week or so after I noticed the change that I walked in from the front garden sometime in the afternoon, greeted with the sight of an unresisting Mathew being quite thoroughly snogged as Draco backed him up against the wall, hands clasped about the man's wrists to keep them out of the way while he took his advantage.

They ignored my teasing catcall as I retreated up the stairs to my room, although I received revenge later, when Draco hexed the tips of my bangs to catch fire during supper.

He knew I couldn't retaliate, the bastard, not with magic, though he didn't appreciate the ice I so-innocently slipped down the back of his collar on the way back from the kitchen, my hair dripping from my panicked dousing of flames. At least Mathew had the common sense not to laugh at Draco's sputtering growl of indignant outrage, though he couldn't help but laugh when Draco's next hex forced me to retaliate, threatening him in slipping some of my more experimental plants into his bed at night…the ones that _bite_.

It was then we decided a truce was best, especially when Mathew rewarded us by gravely cutting into the homemade apple pie his mum had sent along. Sweets are a good way of shutting us up.

* * *

A/N: until next time.


	14. Eyes On Fire

so, i've been meaning to have this up for a couple days now. but every time i went to work on it, fine-tuning and such, i'd be distracted with an idea for a story i'm writing for a potential compilation of original works. so, you know...this would go on the back burner. anyway, only a few more chapters beyond this. two or three, maybe. because, obviously, we're hitting the climax of a tension-soaked earwig.

i'm sure people have noticed i'm really kind of lazy and never reply to reviews, by now. i do appreciate them, though. thank you, **Pika-chan**, **Cazzylove**, **NATWEST**, **farwalker**, **Kiira-san**, and **NLaddict**. this chapter should provide some justification for sticking with this story. heh.

anyway. enjoy.

_sunday, 11 july, 2010. 2:05 am._

* * *

_It was then we decided a truce was best, especially when Mathew rewarded us by gravely cutting into the homemade apple pie his mum had sent along. Sweets are a good way of shutting us up._

_…(chapter begins)_

Visiting my parents on my birthday remained as difficult as it ever was-I visit every couple of months, but there's something about seeing them on my birthday that brings on sharper pains than normal.

Wandering over to a window, I reflected on how it'd been two years since I was here with Ron, married to Harry earlier that day.

Just a year since I'd come while still reeling in silently bitter heartbreak, and yet…I never thought a person could change so drastically in so short a time. In ways, I feel as though I've become someone stronger than I was, but I wouldn't say I'm any happier. Just…at peace.

Leaving the window, I lowered myself into a chair between their beds, but I didn't address them as I have in the past, instead talking as though to an empty room. Words poured out of me, everything that caused weight in my heart and mind, needing to discuss it in entirety, if only this once and to myself. Even alone, I couldn't bring myself to call Harry by name, but he frequented my speech.

Once the words ran themselves out, I continued to sit and keep my parents company, as unaware of it though they were. They're growing older, not aware of things and people as they had been when I was younger, their minds and bodies worsening with every visit.

And sitting there, I came to the realization that I'm seeing them die before my very eyes, pieces slipping away and never returning, every day, every week and month, growing steadily more empty. Until finally, all that's left will be a coldly unmoving shell. Death.

As I prepared to leave, I said my ultimate goodbyes, taking their hands in my own as I leant over and pressed kisses to their cheeks and forehead. And if they felt the damp of a few tears, they'd never be able to tell me. I left the room knowing that they could be alive for many more years yet, or they could die as soon as tomorrow, but in the end, it wouldn't hardly matter.

For me…I've accepted the loss of my parents, finally accepted it and made peace with the death of any hope that they'd know me again one day. The hope that they'd know me as their son.

…

I was in the front lobby of St. Mungo's when someone called my name, the joy of it enough to turn my head on instinct, barely having the time to react before Hermione swooped in and wrapped arms around me.

"Neville! Really, it's been so _long_!"

I couldn't help grinning a bit as I returned her warm embrace, although a part of my heart remained somewhat bitter, knowing she'd never taken the initiative to visit me. Remembering her telling me it'd be a mistake to take Draco in. Although I _was_ somewhat bitter, my pleasure at seeing her again, of receiving her warmth, allowed my manner to be pleasant when we pulled apart again.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was visiting a friend; the poor woman misread a potions ingredient. Her prescription, you know." She tsked slightly while tapping next to her eye, as though touching a pair of glasses, and I understood. Then she asked me the question I'd asked her.

"Well, here to see my parents."

Her eyes widened slightly before immediate, warm compassion pooled into her expression-it's funny how you miss things without ever realizing you'd missed it until you happen to see it again.

"How are they doing?"

"Same as they ever were."

She nodded, seeming to understand despite the wryness in my voice-it's not something that would have been there, before. She looked away, voice almost too casual as she mentioned, "Having a party for Harry later, for his birthday."

I hummed in reply, unable to open my mouth and say something in a normal tone.

"Are you planning anything, yourself? You and…and Draco?"

I frowned slightly, speaking honestly and without thought, "He's planned a dinner for me-him and Mathew-though I told them not to. They might have mentioned a feature film, but I really don't know for sure."

"Mathew?"

"Oh, uh…well, he's Draco's friend."

I didn't have time to phrase it better, mentally wincing for having been so stupid as to let that kind of thing to slip.

Understanding bloomed in her eyes; "You mean…?"

I frowned with something akin to embarrassment; "You never heard anything of the sort from me, alright? Mathew is nobody but a good friend of Draco and myself."

There was something like relief in her voice as she said, "Oh, Neville…please come to the party tonight. It'd be nice to talk to you, everyone would love to have you there."

"Everyone?"

"All of us…Ron and Harry, and some others from the Order. A few aurors. There _will_ be some new faces there-Ron's dating some girl or other, I can never remember her name beyond that it begins with an 'M', but…."

"Really, I don't kn-"

Her fingers latched onto my sleeve as she pressed, "You should come, just for a while, then. We miss you."

Something in the way she stressed 'we' made me pause, and that's probably how I ended up agreeing to show. Stupid, stupid me.

...

Ever been able to tell when a house is full of people, despite there being all outwardly evidence otherwise? I could tell Grimmauld Place was inhabited by a fair number of people as soon as I apparated to the front walk, my stomach heavy as I approached the front doors and gave a knock. Even as I did, I couldn't help dimly reflecting on a time when I didn't have to, my presence excepted and welcomed, belonging here.

I startled when the door opened, my luck holding up enough for it to just be Hermione-I don't know what I might have done had it been anybody else. Her eyes lit up on seeing me, although she did glance over her shoulder before letting me through the door and into a smothering embrace reminiscent of the one she'd given me before.

"It's so late, I thought you weren't coming!"

I was half-distracted by the flush of voices seemingly coming from everywhere, but I managed to answer steadily enough, "I had my previous plans."

Indeed, we'd gone to see a feature film, some silly little thing far too muggle for me and Draco to fully appreciate, but Mathew was able to explain what we didn't understand. In detail. Once Mathew left, I'd had to listen to Draco issue low mutters of physical violence in protestation while I got myself ready to leave once more. Obviously, he didn't approve of my coming.

All in all, I wasn't too sure whether I should have come, either-time hadn't tempered my feelings as much as I'd hoped, still passing some days one hour at a time in order to make it through without breaking down.

"Harry will be _so_ surprised to see you."

"He doesn't know?"

My voice betrayed my distress, fingers clutching her sleeve and making her eyes widen a bit before harboring a merry glint, a teasing smirk shocking me. Without any words, she slipped from my grip and disappeared into one of the side rooms-a parlor, if I remember correctly.

I was left alone in the overbearingly dark foyer with the equally dark and overbearing portraits, and uneasiness of the spot overwhelmed me enough that I managed to suck it up and duck into the same room as Hermione.

The parlor was full of people talking about various topics amongst themselves and across the room to other pockets of acquaintances, the atmosphere borderline professional and informal. My quick glance didn't see that familiar face, and as much of a relief its absence caused me, it also set me even further on edge-I took a seat out of the way and somewhat against a wall, melting into anonymity beyond the few glances I'd gained with my entrance. I recognized a few of the Order members, as well as some coworkers I'd been teamed on missions with before, but Harry wasn't in the room, nor was he the topic of discussion.

After a few moments, a more familiar face turned towards me, his glance startled once he recognized me before he flashed an easy grin, nodding in my direction. Lupin. He turned away before appearing to have remembered something, his eyes turning back to mine, gaze speaking volumes-he wished to exchange words. His conversation partner, however, earnestly renewed his speech, and Lupin politely turned his attentions back.

Now I was a nervous wreck.

Just as I was working up the nerve to somehow slip back out, I heard Ron's voice before seeing him-it's not easy to mistake that timbre for anyone else, you know. When I spotted him, I saw how he still slouched his shoulders when talking with someone he knew particularly well, hands in his pockets as he'd nod and then respond, hair as dark red as always.

If Ron was around, then Harry was…nearby, leaning in to hear what someone was saying to him, his smile fleeting but sincere.

I'd expected some pain upon seeing him, but not the severity to which it flared, and I had to rip my eyes away, suddenly in fear of what might happen should he see me, if our gazes happened to meet. I didn't want to be the one to see him first, because I just didn't know how I should react. I was in over my head, and weak-I've always been so weak, always bumbling along with my own thoughts and motions, constantly making a fool of myself. I just usually haven't required someone else's encouragement to do so.

I stood as smoothly as one might around wild animals-or vicious plants, for that matter-walking through the crowd and to the hall without anyone calling my name. Once back in the front foyer, it would have been so easy to slip back out the front door, gone, with no one the wiser beyond Hermione.

So easy to cut and run, return home to Draco, safe and predictable, with my tail tucked firmly between my legs.

It would have been easy, but I turned towards the stairs instead, heading up to the upper floors and hesitating upon reaching the one I'd lived on those few months. There were doors open or shut along the main corridor, but I found myself drifting down to the very last, the one to my old bedroom.

When I opened the door, I was startled to see an obviously lived-in space, bed covers rumpled and a pair of robes draped over a chair I couldn't recall having been there before. A pair of shoes lay near the closet door, and my heartbeat thumped, having recognized whose they were. I backed away, turning and moving down the hall to where Harry's room used to be. The door was standing open, the room obviously unused. It made absolutely no sense: this one was bigger than the other, bigger, even, than the one he'd had when living with me, but he was living in the one down the hall. Mine.

I turned again, not knowing where to go but allowing my feet to carry me up another flight of stairs, wandering hallways. And as had happened once before, I found myself in places I didn't recognize and not sure I could backtrack to where I'd started, everything beginning to look the same. It was the same hall, the same doors, same empty rooms.

Like Harry's empty room.

A surge of panic rushed me into thoughtless movement, and somehow I found the stairs leading back downstairs. On the second floor, I stopped, covered in dust and cobwebs and my heart jangling with adrenalin. Nobody else ever became lost here, nobody ever had trouble. Just me. Always me.

"I thought I saw you, downstairs."

Startled, my hand flew to my chest as I gulped in air, turning to see Harry standing against the wall opposite, arms crossed over chest as he stared at me with heavy accusation.

I rubbed my neck, wry as I said, "Met Hermione today."

I didn't have to say anything else, because really, her name says everything. She's a wonderful person, but she always did get too involved in other's lives.

"Thought you'd have other plans today."

"Small ones," I conceded, and he nodded, looking away and pushing from the wall.

"Everyone's downstairs." His tone was neutral, but I got the sense that he wished to be around someone else, that he didn't want to be alone with me.

"Harry…."

Although he paused at my soft vocalization he didn't turn back, and when I didn't continue, he continued on downstairs, leaving me no choice but to follow.

It was never this difficult between us, not even right after the war when he wouldn't speak to me. I knew Harry, _loved_ him, but still had no idea what went on behind his glasses, what went on behind his face. He'd never been as upfront with me as he'd been with his friends, though we had developed our own brand of closeness when living together.

I was somewhat hopeful we'd be able to fall back into those roles, if only I could pull my emotions under control.

I followed Harry into the kitchen, which was empty save for the two of us, but wasn't as remote as it'd been upstairs. I watched him move about in setting the kettle brewing for tea, unable to help myself from staring-he'd grown thinner since I saw him last, but still looked healthy enough.

"So, Hermione asked you to come, is that it?"

I nodded, unable to help grinning a bit, "Never gave me a chance to say no, actually."

"Yeah, she does manage to push a person, doesn't she?"

He grinned over at me, honest affection coloring his smile before he remembered that things weren't the same between us as they once were, his smile fading as he looked away and cleared his throat.

"If you'd had plans, you should have kept them."

"They were small, as I said, just dinner."

"Draco?"

He was vague in inquiring, and I was hesitant before giving a truthful nod, seeing him nod in response before he turned and removed two mugs from the cupboard.

We were quiet then, listening to the water bubble in the kettle until steam whistled and he removed it from the flame, comfortable in the routine of pouring tea for the both of us. How often have I sat at this table and watched him do just that?

For a moment, there was a shift-I felt as though I were almost home again, my notes spread before me as Harry set down tea and sternly reminded me to drink it. I used to scald my tongue because I'd immediately rush to obey before realizing it was still hot. A fond grin graced my face as I recalled his gentle teasing, the way he'd shake his head with amusement while making a show of blowing on his own drink before tasting it.

The memory was broken by the appearance of the mug he handed out to me, eyes not meeting mine as I looked up, but he sat across from me, elbows on the table as he blew across the top of his drink.

We remained quiet for a long time, long enough for me to finish my tea before I managed to break the dreadful silence; "You left rather abruptly."

He failed to respond, and my will to speak faded, bleeding away into the awful span of minutes that followed. Movement at the door caught my attention, glancing to see Ron standing there, arms crossed over his chest as he dispassionately stared at the two of us.

"Honestly…you're such a bleeding coward, Harry."

My mouth sagged open at the droll remark, while Harry's shoulders rose up in defense as Ron launched further into contempt.

"You never say right out what you think or want. If you want him to leave, _say so_! Don't just sit there and pretend to be fine when you're obviously not!"

"…You want me to leave?"

I felt as fully hurt as I sounded, and Ron gave a snort of exasperation, obviously having had it up to 'here' with the two of us.

"Say the bloody words, Harry, the ones you practiced for hours when Hermione said she'd invited the git."

"There's just no point, _is_ there, Ron?"

Their conversation flew over my head, my mind spinning as I fought to keep up.

"What's the point of hiding it when it just hurts _you_?"

"Merlin, shut _up_!"

"Grow a pair and _make me_."

It was apparent from the escalated tensions that it was a common argument between them, tempers rising until I finally pushed to my feet, the scowl on my face catching Harry short of a scathing retort.

"If you want me to leave, I will."

"No!"

There was a desperate tone in his voice as he jumped up, skittering a glance at Ron that was met with a continued dark glare.

"I mean, wait until I…." He faltered, and I swallowed.

"If this has anything to do with the papers I had to sign, then-"

"No, I mean…yeah, sort of. I mean…you can't marry him!"

I blinked; "Who?"

"_Draco_!"

"…But I'm-"

"Ponces, the both of you. Honestly."

I whirled, hissing, "Merlin, will you shut up?"

Then, turning back to Harry, I stabbed the table with a finger, emphasizing, "And _you_…! I'm not bloody marrying Draco, and I wouldn't even if I were in love with him. And even if we _were_ to be married, I wouldn't need _your_ _bloody permission_ to do it!

"Especially as you had to run out and serve me with divorce papers once you were gone, like the coward Ron said you are. You couldn't even tell me, you couldn't say it to my face…I nearly blew up my house, because of you. And…and I've just about had _enough_ with all of it, all of this. If…if you really want me to go, then I'll go, all you have to do is say so."

I waited for him to stop gawping and give me an answer, but what eventually came from his mouth was a cowed, "I want to be married."

I stared, blinked, and thanked the stars that my voice came out a lot calmer than I felt as I said, "Oh."

My face was surely frozen into a vaguely benign expression, but I managed to consciously will up some warmth in my eyes while favoring him with a gentle smile; "I guess I'll sign, then."

He apparently expected a reaction of a far different sort, a crease appearing between his eyes as he pulled back a bit; "Really?"

I shrugged my rounded shoulders, that false warmth still burning an icy cinder down in the pit of my stomach, "Yes."

My reservation appeared to trouble him, hesitation and doubt in his gaze, so I developed the courage to make my eyes lie as I reached over and took his excessively-warm fingers between my own clammy hands.

"Really, Harry, it's wonderful."

The effort of my lies were worth it when I saw the glow in his face as he breathed, "Brilliant."

His fingers ripped from mine in his excitement as he garbled something containing the phrase, "Remus," before he swept from the room.

My lie remained frozen across my face, smile still gently warm as I gazed at the wood grain of the table, barely daring to touch its surface with the tip of my forefinger-gathering tears were the only thing to cause my smile to shake before I deigned not to notice them, stubbornly determined to carry this through without breaking.

"You don't have to do it, you know."

Ron's declaration was flat and monotone, but it startled me into looking at him, my resulting smile more genuine despite that I had to rub a sleeve down one side of my face.

"I want to."

I went back to looking at the table, smile now fading as I lapsed into deeper thought, face slacking into dull normalcy. I heard hinted rustling before Harry burst back into the kitchen, parchments hitting the tabletop before me with a flourish that stung me more than I'd be comfortable to admit.

But, I took the time to glance them over in passing, anything to avoid having to look at him, and I gradually frowned with confusion as to what I was reading.

"These are wedding papers…."

"Right."

"But, I didn't…."

He faltered at my quick deferral, eyes blanking as he mentally backpedaled; "You didn't want to?"

"What?"

I felt thick, face contorted with confusion as I stared at him, looking for answers. Instead, he became flustered, eyes looking down at the table and then around the room before turning back, a dying emotion easily visible within their depths.

"I just thought…well, you'd _said_…."

"Harry, if this was your reason for requesting marriage papers, I am afraid you are in for a bit of disappointment."

Lupin's voice was gentle, but if anything, they served to only agitate the man even more.

"What are you talking about, this has nothing to do with-"

"It does if Neville is already legally wed."

Green eyes lit upon me, accusation deep and searing, my brain stuttering and my mouth blurting, "I'm sorry, Harry, I just didn't-"

My voice broke off in horror at the sweeping, charred color of Harry's magic overtaking the green irises behind his glasses, bitter acidity discharged into the air from his black anger and hurt-I was horrified to see the last vestiges of the man I knew drowning in despair.

I know I'm dense and overly-thick, but even I immediately understood it was from believing me married again that dropped him to that point, an insane jealousy hovering just beyond the show of such raw power. I was terrified, and awed, but knew it was only right for me to move around the table, reaching for his shoulders and flinching at the stinging needles creeping from palms to elbows as I touched him.

"It's _you_, Harry, I never signed those divorce papers!"

My words had no effect, the joints in my hands and wrists creaking as an ominous crackling lit within my ear canals, my back teeth beginning to ache enough to bring tears to the corners of my eyes.

Despite the pain, I leaned even closer, my voice nothing but a dry whisper against the shell of his ear, "I'm married to you, Harry, as I always wished to be."

His arms were slow to rise, moving up past my shoulders, moving to wrap around my neck, a creeping sensation spreading down my entire body from the point of contact, as if thousands of invisible insects had descended upon me all at once. A shocking jolt flared along my spine when I felt his magic light against mine, my eyes locked with his when his fingers sparked the back of my neck before cupping the curve of it, drawing me down into his kiss.

And for once, I allowed myself to be honest with Harry, kissing him exactly as though I were in love with him.

The molten kiss began rough, but as his magic spun off and rescinded, he simply became passionate, pulling me closer and giving voice to a desperately-satisfied groan when I easily enveloped him with an embrace of my own.

Harry Potter is in love with me.

The realization eased the tension I carried for so long, allowing me to pull back just enough to remove his glasses, cupping his face and kissing away his broad grin, teasing his tongue with mine and moaning softly at his eager response.

Merlin, I do love Harry Potter.

It was perhaps the fifth obvious cough that brought us back, pulling away until finally back at arm's length-Harry took a moment to squint at the table, fingers moving out in an inadvertent grope for his glasses.

He grinned when I folded the glasses into his outstretched fingers, loving the dull pink glow in his cheeks and knowing I was flushed just as much, if not more. Our gazes caught and held, corners of our mouths quirking at the almost physical memory of their contact not so long past.

Gradually, though, he did become nervous, stepping away as he looked down in order to gather some composure before returning his gaze to mine.

"I…I was practicing earlier, and I thought…well, I thought I'd ask…."

Nerves dried up the rest of his speech, awkwardness evident as he jerkily lowered down onto one knee before me, eyes showing the depth of his seriousness as he said, "Will you marry me?"

Blushing at the theatricality of it, I crouched down on my haunches, bringing us to eye-level as I managed to calmly state, "We're already married, Harry."

"You're not supposed to argue, just say yes."

His tone was mildly pouting, and I couldn't help grinning.

"Why should I, then?"

"Because I'm Harry Potter, that's why."

"Ah, but what's so special about 'Harry Potter', anyway?"

"Nev, I'm being serious."

I stared at him a moment, joking aside; "I know."

"Then please…say yes."

"I already have, the first time you ever asked. I meant it then, and I mean it now."

"Bastard."

My grin at his fond exasperation widened even further, especially when it was again pressed to his.

* * *

a/n: until next time.


	15. Rapture Rapes the Muses

so, it's been about a month since my last update. i apologize. i went to dallas to see Lady Gaga in concert and she was _amazing_. i don't care if you care for her style of music, but her vocal talent is phenomenal. she gives great performances, and i was ecstatic to be able to see her live.

otherwise, the delay was really just me forgetting to update as i worked to finish writing a short story i'm putting into a compilation book of original work i'll have available sometime before october (or at least, that's the plan). it was the first short story i've completed in over six months, actually, so i'm feeling fairly proud of myself.

also, i turned twenty-four on the sixth of august. ancient, i guess. but i still asked for _Batman _cupcakes because he lives forever.

thank you, for the reviewers of the last chapter: **crazycookBekah**, **Crimson**, **NLaddict**, **lynxpanther**, **farwalker**, **Cazzylove**, and **NATWEST**.

still have a chapter left in this story. _this is the only chapter with real smut_. enjoy.

_saturday, 7 august, 2010. 1:44 am._

_

* * *

_

_"Nev, I'm being serious." I stared at him a moment, joking aside; "I know." "Then please…say yes." "I already have, the first time you ever asked. I meant it then, and I mean it now." "Bastard." My grin at his fond exasperation widened even further, especially when it was again pressed to his._

_… (chapter begins)_

A bright flash blinded me, and I had to blink away glowing spots as Harry rushed to Hermione's side to see how the picture developed-I joined them, the three of us leaning in close as the moving picture began to show on the photograph.

Twin smiles beamed across the two faces in the picture, the men looking at each other, arms slung across each other's shoulders before they shared brief kisses and laughter.

"Look at you two!"

Hermione was pleased with the result, obviously already scheming a few more poses of her two subjects, but we were dragged elsewhere before she could try another, someone else looking to monopolize our time.

It grew even later by the minute, but the party had ceased being a birthday bash, instead a celebration of our public union-I'd joked that the news would end up splashing its way across all the major wizarding newspapers that had ever followed Harry's personal life, and he apologized but hadn't seemed all that repentant.

He'll probably feel different, later, and will apologize more profusely, but even though it's a bit disconcerting to know I'll appear in the paper with him, I wasn't worried about it. Being with Harry was worth it.

It was worth it to have the freedom to pull him into an impromptu kiss that earned whistles, to have the right to feel his fingers interlaced with my own due to his constant need to have me nearby and at his side. I didn't even care that his hand was slick against mine, although the constant attention on all sides began to fray at my mental nerves, reducing me into smiling like a daft idiot whenever someone talked to me.

…

I eventually talked Harry into allowing me to retreat to the kitchen to recoup and recover, his eyes telling me he'd be in after a while. How he came to be such a clingy bastard was beyond me, but I couldn't say I didn't somewhat enjoy it.

Sitting in my favorite chair, I let my body sag, sinking down in the chair with a sigh as the day's events drained off me.

"You two really are rather dense."

Looking up at the bland voice, I nodded a bit at Ron's comment, agreeing with him. He came and lowered his lanky form onto the chair across from mine.

"I almost murdered you once or twice, you know. Everyone else could see how much he wanted you, you thick git."

Blood rushed to my cheeks as I looked down at the table, fidgeting slightly; "How long?"

"You really don't know?"

He was incredulous, and I shook my head, looking back up at him.

Wide eyes bore into me a moment before he laughed, sounding genuinely amused for the first time in a long while; "Before graduation, I think, before he ever asked you to marry him because of that stupid clause. It happened sometime that last year of school, Neville…and it was so _obvious_, but you never saw it, did you?"

Horrified, I shook my head in negation, and he let loose more laughter; "So bloody _stupid_."

Sobering at the sight of me hiding my tears, he reasoned, "Then again, he's such a bleeding coward he couldn't bring himself to tell you. Almost cruel, really."

Unable to help myself, I laughed, letting my tears fade through mirth.

…

Eventually, people began to leave and the house grew quiet once more, Hermione and Ron heading upstairs to their rooms. Lupin was the last to leave, his hand clasping mine as he warmly exchanged some congratulatory words with me before he was gone, leaving me alone with Harry. I paused, uncertain, and he touched my wrist.

"Neville."

"Hm?"

One kiss, soft and promising, and I found myself following Harry back upstairs, walking down the hall and to the room that was once mine. I ignored a nagging voice in my head mentioning how I ought to let Draco know I wouldn't be coming home, that he shouldn't wait up like I knew he would. Countering that voice was another telling me I was never expected home, because everyone else was perceptive enough to figure us out ages ago.

"…I want to tell you something."

We sat side-by-side on the edge of his bed, legs hanging over and comfortable in our nearness to each other, heat spilling between our bodies and warming the easy atmosphere.

He took my silence for acknowledgement I was listening, and paused before stating, "The clause wasn't entirely real."

"Wha-"

"I could have named an heir to satisfy an exchange of wealth if I'd died, I…I lied, Neville. I lied to marry you, we never had to."

I let out a soft laugh, touching the side of his thigh as I said, "I might never have loved you as strongly, otherwise."

Startled, he looked at me with those green eyes, cheeks flushed with honesty-even still, he gave a tentative smile, and it again held promise.

…

We extinguished the lights and slid beneath the covers, not unlike the many nights we shared a bed as friends, though we lay closer than we used to, but not, perhaps, as close as that night he pulled me from grief by satisfying my bodily needs.

Had I loved him, even then? Sometimes, I feel as though I've loved him always.

The longer we lay there, the more apparent it became that both of us were waiting, too shy or too hesitant to put into words what we wanted.

He jerked when I abruptly sat up, startling him as I used my wand to bring the lights onto a dim level-I turned when he sat up on one elbow, eyes curious as they met mine. I wanted to be able to look at him, to actually see the images my mind always supplied when I'd lay awake in the dark, alone and wishing for Harry.

Longing.

The top of his naked chest showed above the coverlet, and he remained utterly still and quiet as I reached over and traced a faint battle scar. My touch began light and grew bolder, pushing the material out of the way so I could touch more of him, loving the way his lips parted with breath and heat darkened his cheeks.

Despite his shyness, he quirked a small grin at me; "You're petting me."

My teeth flashed; "I am."

He let me continue a minute or two more before he couldn't take any more, his hand coming up to fasten about my wrist, face overly serious. He didn't tug, because he didn't have to-the slightest pressure from his fingertips to my skin had me leaning in of my own accord, meeting him in a kiss.

Somewhere along the way, he lay back and I followed, half on my side and half against him, palm sliding on bare skin even as his hand found its way into the front of my loose pants. His fingers were cold and made me shiver as he found the hottest portion of my anatomy-my eyes closed as those cold fingers explored me by feel alone, Harry's breath a flit against my throat.

The boy who once used me, who used to occupy nearly my every thought, who made me frigid with Derrick…he never once touched me this way. Never took the time to learn what spot made me smile and what spot made me shiver. He never flushed with pleasure whenever my mouth found the pulse point in his neck, sucking and biting and leaving marks anyone could see.

I'd never made love before, not with anyone. Not until Harry.

Sometime in our explorations, in our play, Harry lay on his stomach, my hands on his backside and spine, our clothes dropped over the side of the bed and blankets rucked down and out of the way. Flesh met flesh as I covered his form, Harry's breath harsh as he arced back against me-he boiled with heat, scalding me, my erection nestled someplace roiling in heat as I rubbed us both crazy.

Every time the tension mounted, when I felt Harry holding his breath, hoping I'd do more than rub against him, I'd feel my lips twitch as I slid away from him again.

Squirming and frustrated, he growled, "Fucking do it already!"

I laughed; "Wanker!"

"I will be if you don't bloody _do it_!"

His snarl was softened by a flashed grin over his shoulder, hair damp and sticking to his skin as he flicked a glance from the corner of his eye. Merlin, do I love him. I moved off him and he arced, choking on a whimper when my fingers went places they hadn't before-both of us flushed, but not entirely from embarrassment.

Just as I'd teased him before, I teased him again, fingers slow and methodical, watching the expressions fleeting across his face as his breathing heightened to a fevered pitch.

He whined and then paused, a resulting husky moaning of my name firing up a physical response. Feeling we were ready, my fingers tugged his hips up and into place, his breath rough as we anticipated this, our coupling, and then I carefully pressed forward.

Agony. Sweet agony.

The position was good, our nerves sparked as they were meant to, but both of us felt it wasn't true love-making, so Harry ended up on his back, pulling me down for kisses to make me forget to move again. He laughed at every pause, his chuckle spurring me to continue with a sheepish grin.

That's love, isn't it? When you can laugh at your partner when he goofs during sex. When a strange moan is appreciated all the same, when the garbled name in your lover's throat is even better than the one he called you just a moment ago.

It's love when this was all you could see, feel, think about-there was nothing else but Harry. Nothing but Harry and his body beneath mine.

…

"Harry?"

"…Hm? What?"

The lights were still dim, and the both of us lay atop the rucked-about coverlet, stark naked and grimy with sweat and the stink of sex.

"You're laying on my arm."

"Ngh. I know, it's killing my shoulder."

"Then get off it, ya wanker."

His laughter was light as he allowed me to shove him enough to where I could free my arm and try to rub some feeling back into it. It was too hot to lay all close together anyway-I could cuddle later, when I didn't feel as bone-lazy and sweaty. That said, I still allowed him to roll back against my side after pulling the coverlet over our legs, his arm sliding across my middle and remaining there, heavy and overly hot.

I glanced over and saw his eyes closed, his breathing steady and even-sweat slicked bangs to his forehead and temples, but I'd never seen him look better.

"Hey, Harry."

It took a moment for him to respond; "Hn. What?"

"Love you."

His mouth pulled into a slow smile, eyes remaining closed; "Bastard."

"Yeah."

We lay that way for a while longer, my head turning thick with sleep before I roused just enough to lower the lights, plunging us back into darkness as I shifted to become more comfortable against my lover beneath the blanket.

"…Nev?" His voice was muffled, slow and thick like molasses, and I hummed a reply.

"…Love you, too."

His sleepy mumble was the last thing I heard before I slept.

…

My face moved against the pillow as I shifted away from a patch of sunlight coming in through one of the bedroom windows-in so doing, my cheek encountered an icy patch of damp fabric, my face pulling into a frown of displeasure as I moved away from it.

My eyes opening, I saw a damp patch of drool on the surface of the pillow I'd wandered onto sometime during the night-it wasn't my pillow, and not my drool stain. I knew this because I found Harry already working on a new spot, his head tucked downwards to his chest as he lay on his side and lips parted-I wasn't surprised.

He's ungainly when asleep, but seeing the familiarity of his pose made me smile.

I watched him a bit, until he breathed deeply and moved, his knees pulling up until hitting against mine, making his brow pull into a frown before he rolled onto his back instead. A hand came up and sleepily rubbed at his scrunched eyes-as soon as one eye slit open, they scrunched back even tighter, his hand blocking out a ray of sun conveniently placed to scald his early-morning eyeball.

"Bugger."

I couldn't help laughing at his sleep-roughened curse, and he turned the same scrunched expression at me for a few moments before laughing himself, relaxing back against the pillow and stretching his arm up into the air to work out a kink in his wrist and elbow. When the joints gave off faint pops, he let his arm drop back down over me, blindly reaching up to find my hair and gently tug on it.

"Oi, cut it out."

My tone was gruff, but he grinned, turning his face towards mine with a squint-more from lack of glasses than the sunlight this time. He stared for a moment, calm and comfortable, before he rolled back onto his side and up on an elbow, a look of distracted consternation on his face. I watched as his tongue rolled across the front of his teeth behind closed lips, his face pulling into a faint grimace as he rolled away, fully upright now.

"Wa's the matter?"

"Wait a 'tic, yeah?"

So, I waited, watching him lean over towards the nightstand-my eyes flicked down the sinewy form of his side and barely visible hip while he rummaged through the sliding wooden drawer. I heard a crinkle before he popped something in his mouth, the drawer closing before he turned back, obviously sucking on something even as I became aware of the gentle scent of peppermint.

"Rancid breath," he commented, flippantly pointing at his mouth as he moved in towards me again.

His hand easily snaked beneath the mound of blankets covering my midsection, and I blushed, but didn't stop him from groping at me.

"Bit early for a romp about, yeah?"

My drawl was one of embarrassment at allowing him to arouse me so quickly, but he just gave a lopsided grin as he moved even further, pushing the blanket aside in order to lean over and gently apply cool breath against the rather sensitized flesh in his hand. It was a shock, doubly so when his tongue joined his breath, leaving behind a sensation of peppermint, a vague, chilling tingle making me gasp and sit up.

His grin was mischievous.

"Where'd you learn a thing like that?"

His eyes rolled, and he kissed me instead of answer-I ended up with the remnants of peppermint on my tongue when he pulled away, and I narrowed my eyes even as I chewed it into sticky pieces that remained in the grooves of my teeth.

"That was snarky."

Mischief still twisting his grin, he leaned forward and kissed me again, delving deep and taking control of the situation, enough to where I found myself beneath his weight as he slid his hips down against mine.

The room was somewhat chilly, goose bumps prickling our exposed skin, a counterbalance to the heat of his skin against mine.

This time it wasn't about making love-it was sexual gratification with someone we trust completely, of being able to feel good without having to hold anything back. Our positions switched, and I straddled his thighs, watching him struggle to look me in the eye instead of how my fist joined us together in languid strokes.

I've never been muscular, and months of working with plants instead of fighting has lost me some of the tone I'd built during the war, but I felt no embarrassment letting Harry's eyes rake me over.

We've seen each other in various stages of undress for years.

The goose bumps ravaging my back forced me into a shirt-it proved tight, meaning it wasn't mine, and Harry rolled his eyes at seeing me in it but didn't say anything once I was back on the bed. My fist and fingers were damp as I stroked him and then steadied myself, biting my lip as concentrated on accepting his intrusion.

It was slow until he slammed home prematurely, ripping a gasping curse from my lips and apologetic moaning from him even as his fingers found my hips and left a few indentions that'll probably bruise later. My hand moved to his collar bone, pushing down even as I moved, my thumb stroking against the curve of his neck and jaw, making him blush brighter than his already flushed cheeks ought have allowed.

I moved just right and felt his fingers again tighten on my hip and thigh-my grin was carnal, one that was met with him calling my name in as gruff a manner as he had the night before.

Sweat prickled my face, slicking my skin even as we became aware of a rhythmic tapping against the window.

I turned to stare and saw a familiar owl pecking at the pane just as Harry impatiently snapped his hips upwards, my body shuddering as I cried a harsh expletive. I forgot the owl at the window, forgot everything but Harry's hand sliding down his abdomen and towards my groin, circling my half-mast erection and pulling gently, somehow knowing anything rougher would detract.

I was overwhelmed by white flames licking their way all over my body, skin flushing with icy pleasure as I grew closer to animalistic release.

The owl hit the windowpane harder, hard enough for me to worry about the glass shattering, and Harry's hand involuntarily jerked in jealous response to my inattention. It hurt, and I yelped as much, but rushing orgasm slammed through me all the same.

As I came down, Harry's hands were sweaty beneath the shirt on my back, his voice gruff as he muttered ineffectual platitudes, groaning as I pulled away until my hand worked to finished what I could not. My heavy pants affected him, his chest rising and falling in a rapid draw until he fell into his own sweet death, body rigid until he poured back against the mattress, limp and sated.

The owl hit the glass once more and he frowned, turning a look to me with one eyebrow raised-yeah, yeah, the owl was definitely for me. He didn't offer up any resistance as I peeled myself from bed, grabbing at the sheet for some form of modesty, but he grinningly rolled onto the main portion of it for spite.

I gave up and padded half-naked across the room, blushing, working the latch at the window.

The owl attacked my fingers in a snit of impatience before flying into the room, alighting down on the back of a seldom-used armchair set against the wall. Feathers dot the floor as it angrily ruffled up while waiting for me to relieve it of its message.

In my distraction, I nearly sat upon the chair before remembering not to, self-consciously standing off to the side as I unrolled the small slip of parchment.

The message's elegant cursive was familiar in its simplicity, reading; "_Congratulations._."

Then, in postscript, so like Draco that I could practically hear the amusement he'd put into the words, "_Bill has been beside himself with 'joy'._"

How embarrassing.

"Nev?"

Harry's voice was curious despite his affectation of indifference, and I shrugged a bit. "S'from Draco. He used Mathew's owl."

"…Mathew?"

I walked back over and sat on the edge of the bed, lounging as I felt him move to sit behind me, his shoulder tucked against my back with comfortable ease.

"Mathew is why I would never marry Draco, even if I loved him."

Harry started, pulling away to lean around and look at me, questions easily read on his face.

"You mean…?"

I couldn't reply directly, Draco would flay me alive, but my one-sided grin was enough for him to understand.

"…Wow."

I smiled a bit; "I think you'd get on with Mathew, he's a likable sort."

"I don't even want to know, do I? You probably can't tell me anyway."

I laughed at his amusement, even though flexing my fingers made the owl bites on my hand sting, distracting me.

"Hey, Neville…?"

"Hm?"

He talked to the wall rather than have to look at me; "How long have you loved me?"

The abruptness of the direct question made me pause, startled, before I answered; "Don't rightly know for sure…before graduation, maybe. Before Jonah…."

The name made his shoulders droop; "I used to wish that kid would go ahead and jump in the lake or something."

I couldn't help chuckling, seeing him blush as he ducked his head; "I mean it! I used to think…'this sweet kid has you, why would you need anyone else'. …But Nev, I was so sure you loved that snaky prick Malfoy."

I blinked at the abrupt subject change; "Malfoy?"

"You told me you did."

He turned baleful eyes my way, but I was merely confused.

"When?"

His brow puckered, tone petulant, "That day I left. We were in the kitchen, and you…you said you loved him. You said to leave you alone about it, or some such thing."

I thought a moment, trying to recall, and the memory suddenly clicked into place.

"That was _you_?"

My horrified whisper gave him pause; "Who else would it have been?"

"Draco! I thought you'd left, and I was…oh, Harry, I was confessing what he already knew about how I felt about you."

"Oh."

And then, a more forceful "_oh_," as the implications of what I'd said sunk in.

He groaned and dropped his forehead against my shoulder; "We're dense gits, yeah?"

I couldn't help running fingers through his damp hair, snickering a bit, "We are."

When he looked at me, I initiated a kiss, gently passionate enough to help convey my feelings, and his palm rose to my face, calloused thumb stroking against the rounded curve of my jaw until we were startled apart by a tentative knock against the door.

"Harry…?"

"Hermione."

She paused after his calm reply, his tone of voice belied by the sheepish grin he flashed me on reflex, but then she stated, "It's near on noon."

He winced; "Yeah, ok."

Then, turning to me, he grumbled, "Meeting for work this afternoon. Sorry."

I shrugged, knowing, "S'alright. But if that's the case…go shower. Probably inappropriate to show up reeking of sex."

His teeth flashed; "I smell of you."

I rolled my eyes, but he nodded to himself and slid off the bed, absently showing off his dexterity as his left hand scratched his left shoulder blade while he cast eyes about the room for anything he'd worn the night before. I didn't mind sitting there, watching him move, watching him hunt up his trousers, though I minded a bit having to see flesh disappear as he pulled the material up and fastened about his waist. He wandered over to the closet and removed a change of clothing-it was only a work uniform, so he grabbed something at random before leaving the room, winking at me as he went.

I sat there a few moments in the empty room before tentatively sniffing at myself, discovering a similar reek of sex hanging about my person too.

There was only one bathroom on the second floor, but I knew of one on the third that wasn't usually in too bad of shape, so I pulled on my dirty clothes and grabbed one of Harry's older robes, exiting the bedroom and walking barefooted down the hall to the stairs. I had to pass the bathroom on the way, and heard water already running, my lips quirking into a small grin that lasted until I was beneath my own spray of water, quickly rinsing away the grime of the night.

Because Harry is a complete fish when in the shower, I wasn't surprised to find I'd still managed to finish before him when I made it back to the room, and allowed myself the freedom of rummaging through his clothing.

He's a bit less stocky than I am, and a good three inches shorter, but I found a pair of trackies that didn't look too indecent on me, as well as one of his larger t-shirts, adding the robe just in case. It would have to do until I could manage to head home to my own wardrobe.

The mirror on the back of the closet door reminded me to run fingers through my damp-tangled hair, and I was still doing such when the door reopened and Harry came back to the room.

He blinked in slight surprise to see my wardrobe change and damp hair, his arm tossing his dirty trousers off to the side as he asked, "Did you shower too?"

When I nodded, he let out a small laugh; "Why didn't you just join mine?"

I quirked an eyebrow; "You'd run late."

He took in the hidden implications of the statement and actually blushed, lips curving into a shy smile that became more genuine as he got a better look at what I was wearing.

I raised a finger, "Don't even start."

His laughter rang out from my threat, his mirth lasting even as we descended downstairs to the kitchen. Hermione was the only one present, sitting at the table with a cup of tea, her eyes lighting with amusement upon seeing the both of us damp and in high spirits.

Harry poured me a cup of tea, but I refused the offer of anything to eat beyond a triangle of toast, content to instead watch Harry attack a plate of food he gathered from several dishes upon the stove-he still ate like someone half-starved. At least he pauses to chew, unlike Ron.

It didn't take long before Harry rinsed his plate in the sink, turning to rest his back against the counter as he said, "Got to go, Nev. See you tonight?"

I nodded and he flashed an absent grin, his thoughts already miles away, but I didn't mind.

Once he was gone, I was left alone with Hermione, her expression clear on how pleased she felt with herself. Unlike how she'd been in school, she knew not to voice her pleasure, though she couldn't resist a knowing smirk when I glanced her way. I couldn't help grinning a bit, anyway, and her smile became warmer.

I truly did miss her.

…

Once home, I managed to make my way up to my bedroom without being seen-I felt more presentable once in my own clothing, and made my way back downstairs. Draco was in the kitchen, running water to boil for tea.

Without turning from the sink, he stated, "You reek of sex."

"I showered."

He looked over his shoulder then, turning off the tap even as his mouth twisted into a disparaging sneer that made me grin, especially as he blandly let the sneer fade away; "I was joking."

"Yes, but that doesn't make it any more true."

I laughed outright at his obvious disgust, his body shuddering as he turned back to the kettle and set it on a flame; "I'd rather not have to know such things about Potter."

"Oh, so you don't want to hear about how that damned Ashwing interrupted just when I was about to-"

"_NO_. I'd rather _not_."

When I doubled up laughing, he picked up a random utensil and chucked it at me with intense accuracy, making me hitch a breath in pain before curtailing my laughter to a slight chuckling.

It was only after I'd calmed down that I thought to ask, "Oh, hey, where's Bill?"

Draco snorted; "Asleep. All your emotional turbulence wore him out."

This time, when I laughed, it was accompanied by a grinning flash of teeth from my friend.

* * *

A/N: until next time.


	16. Lights On

i thought i'd already posted this last chapter, but i was wrong. i apologize, guys, truly i do. at any rate, i hope it's a satisfying ending for _Just Friends_. it's been six months since i first posted this remake of a previous story. seems so much longer than that. i haven't started any new fanfictions, but that's not to say i won't in the future. i do have a few ideas percolating in this brain of mine. ...both of them being HP/DM. maybe, since only one features NL at all, and only after he's dead...that would be why i haven't been all-fired to write them yet. neville is just my favorite character, period.

thank you reviewers, all of you who reviewed throughout the entire story. whether once, or twice, or every chapter. thank you all. but, those who reviewed last chapter: **NLaddict**, **lynxzpanther**, **ReaderMike**, **farwalker**, and **Cazzylove**.

this is really the last chapter guys. so long!

wednesday, 18 august, 2010. 2:05 am.

* * *

_It was only after I'd calmed down that I thought to ask, "Oh, hey, where's Bill?" Draco snorted; "Asleep. All your emotional turbulence wore him out." This time, when I laughed, it was accompanied by a grinning flash of teeth from my friend._

_… (chapter begins)_

After a light meal, I immersed myself with my work, observing plant growth and taking notes, then cross-referencing old notes to new studies, _then_ compiling past studies for future reference. It satisfies me to know should I ever need a particular item or note, it wouldn't require a week's worth of flipping through tomes and journals to find it.

Everything ordered and precise, a detailed system in place-for someone like me, I'd never get any work done without it.

As intensely focused as I was, I didn't realize Mathew was around until he ambled into my work area, moving with a comfortable ease gained through familiarity.

"Work, work, work. I swear, I don't think I've ever seen you just…pissing about."

"For me, this _is_ pissing about. That's what comes from having a job you'd be doing anyway."

He laughed; "Was that an insult to my career choice?"

I glanced upwards, one eyebrow quirked; "Oh, so you consider it a _career_ now?"

"Oh, that's not fair! I get enough of 'the look' from Draco, I don't need to see it on you too."

I grinned a bit, but was already turning back to the gently swaying fern before me-it was a crossbreed of muggle and wizard plant species, but so far, was the sole survivor of the only crop I'd been able to bear to adulthood. The infertility was problematic, and was something I'd have to work on for the next crop.

"Neville. …Neville. …_Neville_!"

"Yes?"

My eyes never even left the page of my scrawled handwriting, my hand steady as I added to my notes.

"For the last time, I'm telling you Draco's fixed supper."

I gave an absent nod; "Ok, I'll be in, in a few."

Mathew left, and I reabsorbed myself in my notes, mentally ruling to leave at the next available break.

By the time I actually left the makeshift greenhouse and washed up in the kitchen, Draco and Mathew had finished their meals and sat talking over lukewarm mugs of fragrant tea.

"About time, you great lout."

Draco's voice was more knowingly amused than severe, and I glanced over at him even as I served myself a generous portion of potatoes and pork roast.

"Hm?"

"Mathew called you in over an hour ago, Neville."

I blinked; "Oh."

Grey eyes rolled derisively as Mathew laughed, but I ignored them both as I sluggishly ate as much as I wanted, which wasn't as much as it should have been, considering I'd barely eaten all day. The roast was good, though, and I continued picking at it until absolutely sure I couldn't eat any more, at which point I pushed the plate aside in favor of nursing a cup of the bitterly dark tea I'd poured at the beginning of my meal.

Talk was easy for a while before the unobtrusive sound of the front door opening made me straighten with a grin, leaning over to watch Harry walk in from the front hall. His eyes caught mine and held, smile tired but pleasant as he walked over for a brief kiss in greeting, more of an impulse than with any real thought.

"I'm starved. Are you done eating this?"

Even as he asked, he grabbed my leftovers and shoved a fork of cold potatoes into his mouth while standing near the table, chewing rapidly and stealing my cup of tea to wash it all down before he thought to glance up and notice we weren't alone. A brief moment of confusion settled across his tired face as he stood there with the teacup to his lips, preparing for a second gulp of tea, but by the time he'd swallowed, the expression cleared.

"Mathew, yes?"

Mathew didn't quite seem to know what to do about the man who'd suddenly appeared to walk in and _know _him…a man who'd kissed me like a familiar lover, when I'd never given implication to having a relationship with anyone.

I took pity on the man, turning to Harry and chiding, "Sit, Harry. You're so bloody rude."

He sat, claiming my plate and mug as his own.

Draco appeared a bit discomforted, but managed an amused glint in his eye as he turned to a confounded Mathew; "This is Harry, Mathew. He's Neville's husband."

"Husband? Since when?"

I stole my cup back from Harry with a vague frown, but responded to the question, "Two years, yesterday. We've been separated a while."

"Long enough for me to miss you coming into the picture," Harry quipped, voice largely amused, but anyone who knew him well enough would have heard the self-deprecation hidden there as well.

I rolled my eyes and waved a hand for him to get more food onto his plate, an edict he gleefully followed without hesitation.

Shoving warm roast into his mouth, he almost melted with pleasure, question muffled, "Oh hell, who cooked?"

"Draco."

"Mmf, Malfoy, I take back every snarky thought."

Draco's lip curled into a sneer; "Don't stress yourself."

Harry deigned not to hear, preoccupying himself with eating with the same fervor he's always shown, shoving food into his mouth and just barely taking the time to chew it before swallowing. I used to wonder why, but some of the things he told me about how he grew up gave some implication to where he might have learned to eat fast.

Instead of watching him eat, I got up and went into the kitchen, returning with a clean teacup and pouring him a hot cup of tea-he nodded in gratitude when I set it down near his plate, letting it cool a bit before sipping.

"You forgot the sugar."

His whine made me again roll my eyes; "Didn't forget, you lazy ponce. I just figured you were old enough to bloody well get it yourself."

"Hey, I worked hard today. I had to listen in meetings, learn some new protocol, and write loads of reports. I'm exhausted!"

"Spare us."

Draco's voice was venomous, but it was easy to hear the laughter running beneath it-I think he missed having Harry around, though he'd rather slit his throat than admit it aloud. At any rate, he left with Mathew for the kitchen, giving us our privacy while gaining their own even though only to clean up.

"So, that was Mathew."

Harry's abrupt seriousness didn't faze me, nodding agreement.

He paused in thought before saying, "Never would have thought…. Hn, never mind. He seems a good sort."

"He is."

"Good. …Merlin, I'm fagged out, I was serious about that, though I spent more time outside the office than in, today."

He rubbed at his eyes a moment, and I asked, "You staying here, or…?"

Glancing at me, he ducked his head with a sheepish grin; "Kind of hoped my room might still be open, actually."

"…There might be something available."

"Bastard."

…

"Well…you going to show me your work?"

Harry's abrupt question startled me from where I'd felt myself start dozing in the floral-patterned chair in the den, ankle crossed at my knee as I'd watched him flip through channels on the tele-the set had remained fairly silent during his absence, as neither Draco nor myself have the drive to watch it very often.

"What?"

He pegged me with a knowing stare, voice warm as he teased, "You're all dirty, I can smell it on you. You've been working-big surprise-so…show me what you've got done while I was gone."

"You can smell me? I washed before supper!"

Smirking, he got up and walked over towards me, running a finger down my neck and eliciting a cold flush from the contact, as well as a remembrance of the last time he'd touched me so intimately. After touching me, he pulled back and rubbed his fingers together, that smirk widening just enough to cause my skin to turn pink.

"You're gritty, Nev, covered in dust and," he bent down and placed his face sensually close to my neck, "you smell of old sweat and hard work. That, and I _know_ you, and I know you'd work yourself to death if given the chance."

"He does, that."

Both of us jumped at the dry voice coming from the doorway to the front hall-I had to lean around Harry to see Mathew leaning against the doorjamb.

At my accusing glare, he allowed a playful grin to slip over his face, raising his palms as he backed up a step; "Whoa, hey, sorry, t'was an accident. Just came to take my leave, say 'ta' and all that, yeah?"

"With you, it's never an 'accident.'"

He snickered and entered the room, waiting for me to stand and receive a customarily good-natured kiss to the cheek, his facial features and tone mocking but his eyes serious as he stated, "Belated congrats, Neville, bein' happy and tied down. Figure the Serpent'll never go for it, but a bloke's gotta keep his dreams, now don' 'e? …Kinda pissed you never mentioned no bloomin' husband, mind, but I might see it in me to forgive you someday."

I nodded, mock serious, and he winked before turning to Harry, thrusting his hand out and shaking firmly when Harry responded in kind.

"Lovely to meet ya and all, Mr. Harry Potter, sir."

Harry frowned, suspicious, "I don't think I ever-"

"Like I wouldn't know who ya are, what with that scar and company included? Might not do magic, meself, but I keep in touch."

He pulled back with a jovial salute, and left us with a lazy, "See you around."

Once the bright entity that is Mathew left, Harry stood in a tired daze, mind still trying to wrap around the fact that Mathew not only knew him for who and what he was, but that he didn't seem to care. To Mathew, there had been more respect there for Harry having married _me, _than anything Harry did for the wizarding world. It was apparently a lot to take in.

I took pity on him, grabbing hold his hand and tugging him towards the stairs; "I'll show you my work in the morning."

…

A knee unceremoniously jabbed into my hip sometime in the early morning, waking me as I grumpily pushed against the offending limb. Harry mumbled something unintelligible when I shoved his leg away from me, and I smiled despite lingering grouchiness at having been woken before complete sunrise.

The light coming through the window was still a dullish, blue gray, and I slumped against the pillow and attempted to return to sleep-we'd not gotten much during the night.

The knee returned, pulling a low hiss of pain from me even as I angrily shook Harry awake, his breath hitching as his eyes shot open in panic before he relaxed enough to sleepily growl, "What?"

Guilty for forgetting what waking him too suddenly did, I nonetheless snapped, "Fucking stabbed me with your knee, you wanker!"

He half-sat up and thickly frowned through the muddled veil in his brain, blinking at my scowl and then at where his knee was still jammed against my side.

His expression instantly cleared; "Oh! Sorry, Nev."

He pulled his knee away, sleepy grin sweet and apologetic.

Though I was reluctant to immediately forgive, it was hard not to when he lowered back to the mattress only to lean in for a kiss to my bare shoulder, his hand reaching out and rubbing my chest. Then he settled back in against my side, hand stilling on my chest as his breath puffed gently against my skin.

After a few minutes, I mumbled, "Still awake?"

There was a pause, but he replied, "Mn…yeah."

"Have work today?"

There was an even longer pause following my low whisper, long enough that I thought him already asleep before he startled me by saying in an abnormally loud voice, "No, took this week off."

I grinned even as I let out a low hushing noise, and felt him smile sleepily, his arm sliding further on my chest to draw me even closer to his warmth. I hummed in contentment, his chuckle roughly audible as his embrace became even warmer and more awake.

"Hey, Nev."

"Mm…yeah?"

His mouth migrated to my ear, voice husky as he whispered, "I used to dream of this, waking up here, with you."

"Funny…I used to dream of us fucking, but whatever gets your rocks off, yeah?"

He pinched me for the lilting joke, making me laugh and cringe enough to where I rolled to face him, my lips peeling away from my teeth in a grin. The grin widened at the way he eyed me, a predatory glint in his eyes moments before he ducked his head and pressed a kiss to my mouth, damp and hot enough to spread licking fire through my arms and legs.

His responding chuckle to my low expletive was dark and promising, and white fire licked at the soles of my feet, making my toes curl while I gave a delicious shiver.

…

It was late by the time Draco emerged from his room and made his way downstairs, and Harry had already accumulated three separate bandages for fingers on his left hand-he'd had an unpleasant encounter with one of my more 'untamed' plant varieties.

It wasn't my fault if he touched something I'd clearly steered him from, but guilt still prickled me into knocking up a hearty breakfast even he couldn't eat his way through in one sitting.

Draco appeared unnaturally grumpy as he ungainly slouched down into a wooden chair at the table when he finally joined us-truly grumpy, and not just appearing so.

"Trouble sleeping?"

Furrows lined his brow as a frown deepened on his face due to my genuine concern, his voice acidic as he charged, "I was fine until I heard the two of you _shagging_ this morning. I'm now deeply and emotionally scarred."

"What else is new?" I teased, but a fierce blush bloomed from my hairline down beyond the color of my shirt, blood even rushing to Harry's otherwise stony face.

"I'll put up a silencing spell next time."

"You do that."

They leered at each other in defiance while I tried to drown my embarrassment with orange scones and tea.

But by the time Draco cleared his plate of sausage and eggs, the subject had dropped and been forgotten, talk turning to more mundane and safer topics. He even carried an entirely benign conversation with Harry without requiring my refereeing presence, and I left them alone to return to my plants.

Time can change things.

… **Epilogue**

The sky was gray and overcast, threatening rain, but that didn't deter the sound of the trowel scraping through dirt and tough grass, removing weeds and unwanted growth. A low noise spilled from my throat, and I soon found myself humming an unidentifiable song, the melody that of a cheerful lullaby.

My work and humming didn't quite mask the sound of approaching footfalls, but I didn't pause until a whisper of cloth at my side and a light touch to my bent spine caused me to look to my right.

"It's looking right nice, Nev. He'd love the flowers."

I smiled, a touch saddened even as I pleasantly bared my teeth and glanced at the headstone, the grave well-kept.

"He'd like an apple tree better, I think."

Laughter sounded in agreement, fingers rubbing against my back now.

"Still can't believe you made a marker for a pet, Nev."

"What? Bill was more than just a _pet_!"

Harry grinned, leaning in for a kiss that had my protests melting away-he always could manage to do that to me, no matter how often I fought against it. Twelve years of fighting against the effect his presence still has on me, and I'd never come any closer to defeating it than I had from the very first.

"Come on, the Rotten Duo is due to show any minute, and Mathew bet me you couldn't spend one day away from work. I've ten quid and eleven knuts riding on this."

"I'm not working, I'm…resting."

Harry cocked an eyebrow and I had to laugh, teeth flashing as I gave in with a nod.

"Ok, ok, I'm nearly finished anyway."

Just a few more scrapes across freshly-turned dirt and I was satisfied, gathering my tools and pushing myself back onto my feet. My knees were shot from years of kneeling in dirt, but I wouldn't have given up my living for anything.

Still, I appreciated Harry's arm around my middle, steadying me as we began the walk back up to the house, the one left to me after the passing of my grandmother, after the passing of my parents nearly four years ago.

Our home now, mine and Harry's.

* * *

A/N: End.


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